The Legend of a Saracen Princess
by lovespeaks2me
Summary: It is a legend that not many speak of, yet time and again someone will remember the simple tale of a Palestinian Princess long ago… WillDjaq.
1. Disclaimer

The Legend of a Saracen Princess: Disclaimers

I don't own Robin Hood…. If I did, this probably be a part of series 2.Maybe. Actually probably not. Either way. I don't own it.

This is a work of fiction, meaning that not everything is going to be historically accurate. Please don't expect me to be. I had a really crappy, uninspiring teacher to deal with when "learning" about the Crusades.


	2. Finding Her

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 1: Finding Her

()….()

It is legend that not many speak of, yet time again someone will remember the simple tale of a Palestinian Princess long ago….

()….()

Two light grey horses, carrying two men in dark clothing, galloped through the forest they learned was called Sherwood. Breaking through the trees, they came upon a hill that overlooked a small village.

Coming to a stop, both men agreed that this would be a good place to stop for a much needed rest. As they traveled through the village, they learned of its name (Locksley), and were invited for a meal with one of the English peasants. The woman was tall and thin with dark hair and eyes. To others, she was quite beautiful. To these men, she was nothing compared to the exotic women back home.

"My name is Alice Little," she smiled at them, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth. Her bony, delicate, yet hard-worked hand rested on a scrawny boy's shoulder. His hair, though not as dark as his mother's, had a brown tint that fell across his tiny shoulders and into his innocent brown eyes. "And this is my son, John Little."

"Thank you… for your… hospitality," the first man said, struggling with his English. "We will only rest our horses for a short while before returning to our search."

"What are you searching for?" Alice could not help the curiosity that made itself present in her mind.

"A princess," the man said in his heavy Saracen accent. His hard, piercing eyes were mysteriously a lighter brown than Alice had ever seen, and they were trained on her own chocolate orbs, assessing her reaction.

Alice couldn't help but let out a short laugh as she led them inside her home and seated them at the small table occupying the tiny kitchen area. "I can assure you, gentlemen, there are no princesses here in England."

"There is. She is here, or so says the man that returned to our land. He rode in the same cart as her when captured as a slave. He heard her dreams."

Alice's eyebrows rose at this before she moved to make a proper meal. "Well, all I know about a Saracen being here in England is the one that lives with a band of outlaws in the forest."

"A Saracen? In this forest?"

"Yes." The one who spoke English turned to his friend and murmured a few sentences in, what Alice guessed it to be, Arabic to him, his voice animated with the news he just heard. The other man nodded his head and both stood up abruptly, almost knocking over their chairs.

"Thank you, Alice Little," both men bowed their heads in a formal farewell before exiting the small house in a flurry of expensive capes.

()….()

"Oi! Much and Little John better come back with a good catch for a how long they've been gone!"

"It's probably just a slow day, Allan," Will countered, never taking his eyes off of the small piece of wood he was carving into. It was to be a small trinket for Little, Little John. A figurine to play with, he decided.

"Whatcha makin'?" Allan sat up and peered over at Will from across the campsite.

"A toy."

"For who?"

"For you," Djaq intervened, much to Will's relief. He looked up from his carving to observe her as she made her way around the camp, tidying up. Feelings he never before felt welled up inside of him. He thought it might be love, but he wanted to be sure before he acted on it.

"Actually, for Little, Little John," Will corrected as he returned to his work, fearing Djaq might catch his blatant staring.

"Well, i'n't that nice of ya, Will?" Allan mocked.

"I don't see _you_ doing anything," Will shot back, his body tensing as Djaq made her way behind him, tidying up there.

"I'm entertaining you two!" Will only rolled his eyes, hearing Djaq chuckle from behind him. "But going back to our earlier conversation," Allan said, completely steering away from their current topic, "Can you believe Marian is here, now? Living as an outlaw… with us!"

"She's not Marian. Marian has taken residency at the convent. The _Nightwatchman_ is at our camp now."

"Yeah, but we still call her Marian. Well, except in public."

Will relaxed again as Djaq moved back into his peripheral vision. "It is a safety precaution," he heard Djaq say. He stopped what he was doing to listen to her talk. She had turned around as well, her fist resting against her hip. "It would not be good for her honour if anyone found out she was living with a group of men in the forest."

"What do you think they're doing?" Allan laid back down, his hands serving as a pillow between his head and the tough ground.

"Picking flowers," Djaq replied sarcastically, a smile playing across her lips. "Probably spying on the Sheriff, planning our next move. After all, Sir Guy does not trust her anymore."

Will nodded silently in agreement, returning to his almost-finished toy.

Heaving a sigh, Allan started on, yet, another topic," You'll never believe what happened in the market the other day!" He sat up again, his excitement causing him to do it with ease.

Will peaked up just in time to see Djaq turn her head in Allan's general direction, "What happened?" her interest obviously piqued. Will smiled; she was such a good companion for everyone. He turned back to his work, thinking with an inward sigh, 'Here goes another one of Allan's stories.'

And it was at that moment that all of the outlaws of Sherwood's lives changed forever, for at that very moment, as Allan began to tell his story, Will heard rustling behind him.

He stopped carving and put the unfinished trinket down. His eyes focused on Allan as he blathered on and on about nonsense, but his ears were focused on the thick forest behind him. Was it Little John and Much? Will scratched that out, reasoning that he'd be hearing Much's voice by now. What about Marian and Robin? His ears pricked and his eyes shot behind Allan's head. No, they were coming in behind Allan. And they seemed to be arguing about something.

They quiet rustling could be heard significantly closer and Will found himself standing and moving to stand beside Djaq, his body prepared to fight, but his weapons not drawn.

This alerted Allan and Djaq, he could tell, because as he glared at the patch of forest, he heard Allan scramble to his feet and move to stand on the other side of Djaq, his hand resting between her shoulder blades, much to Will's vexation, and stared at the forest in confusion.

"What is it?" Allan whispered.

"I don't know," Will whispered back.

"It will never work! Grow up," was followed by Robin's character chuckle.

"What's the matter with _you_?" Robin asked as he and Marian broke into the clearing.

Will's eyes never left that patch of woods as he spoke, "Someone's coming," and as soon as those words left his lips, two armed Saracen men dressed in elegant clothes appeared between the trees.

He noticed their eyes immediately flew to Djaq and widened in shock.

Will heard them murmuring to each other in a language he was not familiar with.

Djaq answered in their language, causing everyone to jump. The Saracen men looked truly frightened by the gang's little Djaq.

Djaq quickly turned to Robin, "Allow me to speak to them. They mean no harm." Robin nodded curtly, relaxing his fighting stance a little. It was everyone's cue to let go of their own stances, and while Will was out of his stance, he was still tense. Something wasn't right here.

He watched as Djaq stepped forward, putting her hands up as if to be in surrender, all the while murmuring softly in what Will guessed to be Arabic.

His eyes flew to the men when they mentioned her name. The way the first guard, tallest of the two and quite burly, said it almost seemed reverent. Will mentally chuckled at the two frightened men, 'They look as if they'd seen a ghost!'

Djaq stopped abruptly, staring at the first guard in shock. "Haissam?"

"Na'am, Djaq." Will was confused, especially since they were bending into a low bow.

"Bas, bas, bas!" Djaq shouted, stomping to them and grabbing them both by their collars and dragging them deep into the forest. Will, against Djaq's knowledge, followed.

()….()

"What do you think you are doing?" Djaq hissed when she stopped, spinning around to face them. She couldn't believe she was standing here, in England, and being bowed to by her two oldest friends. "Haissam! Samir! Get up!" her words flowed much easier in Arabic and she yanked them up from the bowing positions.

"Prince Djaq! We are honoured by your spirit's presence!" they tried to bow again, but Djaq yanked them back up before they could start.

"Hablah! Spirits cannot touch you! It's me! Safiya!" she pointed at herself and was thankful that her hair had grown out just a little bit. It served to help her look at least a little more feminine.

Haissam looked up; his light coloured eyes still shocked her to this day. They were a light brown that very few Palestinians had. Her anger whooshed out of her as she saw tears well up in Haissam's eyes.

In an instant, his arms were around her, holding her tiny body to his large one. She noticed that he did not change much at all. His hair was still curly and unkempt under that headgear and his voice was as rich as the color of his skin. She could feel his burly muscles surround her in this embrace and she knew that he was still as gentle as a mother would be underneath all of that armour.

"Safiya!" he shouted, kissing both cheeks as the air of familiarity enveloped them both. "Safiya, you're alive!" She looked up into his tear-filled eyes and laughed.

"You were always the emotional one, Haissam," she laughed again as she turned away from Haissam and smiled at Samir. She was certain that Samir was just as happy to see her as Haissam, but he was a little more reserved. Her eyes met his, but they weren't shining with happiness. "What is it?"

"Where are your robes? And your hair… what did you do to your glorious hair?" Samir crossed the clearing and fingered her boyish haircut.

"I had to. There was no other way I would have made it here unharmed," she retaliated, feeling defensive.

Samir turned to Haissam, "He will be angry. Jamal will not approve."

"He has to, she is our only chance for help," Haissam argued.

"Help? Jamal? Why must Jamal approve?" Djaq asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Haissam turned to Djaq, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Jamal, your father's highest appointed advisor, made a deal with the High Prince of Persia… he got him to agree to aid us in our fight… but at a price."

"What price?" Djaq asked, dread making itself evident. She remembered the High Prince of Persia. He was a greedy man and considerably tyrannical to all of his subjects.

"He asked for you," Haissam murmured, his light brown eyes drilling into her, concern evidently shining in them.

"Me?" her fears were confirmed, "No," she murmured in English, "No! Haissam how could Jamal do this? Does he not realize that there should be rumors of my death?"

"No," Haissam answered in English, "Jamal did not want the enemy to know our youthful king was dead and we had no heir, so he wrote it in the records but said nothing. But when a man, who had been captured and enslaved by those… English," he said the name in disgust, "claimed he had seen the Princess, he promised Prince Am'an your hand and immediately sent us to England in search of you."

Djaq was in deep thought. So it was one of other Saracen men she had been traveling with. She lowered her eyes and placed her hands over Haissam's where they still rested on her shoulders. "I must return to Palestine, then?" She had slipped back into Arabic, looking up at him with peaceful resignation.

"Yes." Djaq sighed, pushing his hands off of her.

"Come. I need to tell my friends."

"Have you been living with those men? Here?" Djaq nodded. "Have they been… honourable?"

"Of course! They have no reason not to be!" Her eyes were wide with incredulity.

"I just saw the way one of them looked at you."

Djaq scrunched up her face. "There is nothing between any of us," she assured Haissam. He only nodded before following her back to the campsite.

()….()

Will only heard the last few bits. Since it was mostly spoken in English. But he got the gist. It was not good news for the gang. He hurried back to the camp, the look on Djaq's face fresh in his mind.

"Did you get anything?" Allan asked, barely above a whisper. It was obvious that they had been in deep conversation. Will looked around camp to see that Much and Little John had returned.

"All I could find out—" he started before he heard rustling behind me. Turning around, he saw Djaq burst through the trees, her sights only on her stuff where it lay beside his. His eyes darted up to see the two Saracen men who she seemed to be in close relations with. Will's eyes narrowed at the burly man whose eyes seemed to constantly be trained on him in sharp observation.

"What're you doing?" Allan asked Djaq. Will dropped the staring contest to see that Djaq had begun packing her things into a small bag.

"I must leave," she replied, the urgency in her movements betrayed in her voice.

"Why?" Much shouted from the fire that he was cooking over. So they had been blessed with a successful hunt, Will distractedly mused.

"Something has happened. At home."

"But _this_ is your home, now," Will couldn't help but argue. He also couldn't help but hear the angry growl that came from behind him. Why did she have to leave?

Djaq stuffed the last item she had into her bag before turning to Will. Tears filled her eyes, nearly breaking Will's heart. "This will always be my home. But I must go back to my land, my country." A single tear fell. Will reached up and brushed it away, quickly.

"Will you return?" Will's eyes were full of emotion, repressed emotion.

"I don't know."

"Well, Djaq," Robin interjected, "if you must go, we understand. But know that you always will be welcome here." He gave her a kind understanding smile.

"Thank you, Robin, for everything," she replied, giving him a quick hug. Will bent down as she was saying good-bye to everyone else and picked up the half-finished trinket he had put down earlier. When Djaq finally came back to him, he had been finishing up his last little details before putting away his tools and handing the tiny toy to her.

"A little something to remember us by. Travel safely," he murmured, taking her hand in his and pressing the wooden figuring into her hand delicately, closing her fingers around it.

Djaq's eyes were full of tears by now, causing Will to feel incredibly uncomfortable, seeing as he was trying not to show his emotions to clearly. He gave her a quick hug before pushing her away and charging into the thicket across the camp from where Djaq stood. The last time she would ever stand by his side ever again.

()….()

I hope you like it! Well, anyway, review, I'm eager to here what you have to say. I encourage constructive criticism.

JosephineInLove


	3. It's Harder Than I Thought

AN: I will be putting in translations from now on as needed. Sorry, I didn't put them in the last chapter. I thought to do it, but completely forgot when it came time to actually include them at the end. Read, and I will put the translations at the end.

()….()

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 2: It's More Difficult than I Thought

()….()

Will ran through the forest, tears pricking his eyes. It was the only time he'd ever felt tears since Marian's death. They blurred his vision until he couldn't run anymore, so he slowed to a halt and slumped against a tree.

He cursed the day he hesitated to show how he felt. He had been presented with so many opportunities. But he had turned them all down, telling himself it wasn't the right time. Even now, when he realized that she would be leaving him, he held back. Something told him that he would not be received well if he told her.

His fists rubbed at his eyes, ridding them of his all-too-familiar tears. It had only been a few weeks ago, when they thought Marian to be dead. He unconsciously thought of how Robin had felt, loosing someone he held so close to his heart. Back then, he put himself in Robin's situation and it brought him to tears. He couldn't bear to think of losing Djaq back then. And now he's lost her, but in a different way entirely.

'No,' he berated, 'I mustn't dwell on this.' He immediately thought of the first time he saw her. Well, he didn't know 'he' was actually a 'she' at the moment. He felt sorry for her, that's all he knew. He felt a strong tug of sympathy toward her at first sight of her miserable face in that cart. And when he found out 'he' was a 'she'. Something clicked inside of him. Suddenly he was noticing the charming way she walked, the higher tones of her voice when she got emotional, how truly exceptionally smart she was, the soft planes of her face, and the tenderness in her onyx eyes. Will couldn't stop the slow smile spreading across his lips when he remembered the day she joined their little group.

His mind jumped to the conversation he heard only moments before. "A princess…" he whispered. "Djaq… a princess!" And now she was betrothed. "Leave it to me to fall in love with someone I can never have." By the sound of it, though, she didn't want to go. And who were those men? Why did the larger man hug and kiss her as if they had known each other longer than he had known of his hatred of the Sheriff? These questions dried his tears and he got up, taking his time to head back to where everyone was. He didn't want them to worry, after all. But what should he tell them? They deserved to know, right?

Will shook his head, running his hand through his hair. No, it was her secret to tell. Unless it was endangering everyone else to keep it, he would not tell her secret, he decided.

"Will, what's gotten into you?" Robin demanded as he stepped back into their sight.

He looked up at Robin, his sharp green eyes revealing none of the emotions that were eating at his heart. "Do you remember how you felt when Marian had died?" Will asked, quietly simply, nothing edgy reflected into his voice.

Robin's mind seemed to halt. His eyes focused on Will's intently. "I understand." And with that he turned to a very confused Marian and began debating what their next move on the Sheriff was to be.

Will sat down by his belongings, noting that Much and Little John were both curiously concentrated on their tasks. While Allan was just sitting down, staring at his feet. No one spoke to him, no one looked at him. Only Allan seemed to be as deeply affected as he.

()….()

Her hand was hurting.

"You can let go of that toy, you know," Haissam had jokingly told her. That only caused her grip to tighten. She missed her friends; she couldn't bear to look at it for fear of bursting into tears. And that was what letting go would make her do.

Haissam and Djaq—no, Safiya now—had been traveling for hours now, with no stop, on the same horse. She sat in front of him, his arms reaching around her tiny frame to hold the reigns. Samir rode beside them, keeping his attention on their surroundings.

Her tears had dried on her face long ago. She had no tears left to cry. 'And a good thing, too,' she told herself over and over, 'I must be brave.'

"Safiya, speak to me, say anything."

"I miss them," she replied.

"I know you do, but you must do this or else we will never win this war."

"This war is pointless, Haissam, it must end."

"No one will agree with you."

"You are right, which is why I agreed to go back."

"Do you not like Prince Am'an?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"He is a man who will be an unfaithful husband. An abusive ruler. He loves his power more than he loves his people."

"Maybe you can teach him something."

"He will oppress me. I will forget all that father taught me."

"It is not your duty that you hate. You hate leaving those men. That boy with the green eyes." Her grip tightened and she was sure that her hand was going to bruise now.

"It is all of them and not just Will! I had more purpose here than I will in Palestine, much worse Persia."

"They treated you as an equal?"

"As if I, myself, were a man most times."

"Even…. his name was… Will?"

"Especially Will." This resulted in a grunt from Haissam and a tired sigh from Samir.

"You admire him. Admit it."

"Not the way in which _you_ are implying!"

"Do not lie to me, Safiya, we've known each other since before we knew how to crawl. We played in the palace gardens together as children. We even studied under the same tutor. I know you too well."

Safiya refused to speak for a moment, knowing that what he said was true. He did know her better than she knew herself at times. But that did not mean she admired Will in the way Haissam was implying! She sighed. She glanced at Samir, pleading with her eyes for help. He only shrugged.

Samir was a different case than Haissam and Safiya. He became their playmate when his parents began working as servants in the palace. Unlike Haissam, his parents weren't nobles who could afford a tutor. Unlike Haissam, he had no choice but to continue to serve her family. Haissam had a choice; he chose to work for her and her family. She was glad they did, or else she would have been greeted by cold, unfamiliar guards back at the campsite.

"I admire his passion and his spirit," she eventually admitted, grudgingly, "I admire him as a boy would admire his older brother. Nothing more."

"So you say, but who is to say _he_ does not admire _you_ on a deeper level."

"Will does not feel that way, end of subject."

"Yes, Princess."

They continued on in silence, excusing the few times that Samir would mutter directions that they were to follow.

"Haissam," Safiya finally said, after a few more miles filled the space between her and Sherwood Forest.

"Na'am, Princess," he replied.

"There is no other way? I can't be Djaq?"

"You are much too small to be Djaq."

"You and Samir thought I was my brother."

"Samir and I thought we saw his spirit. That is much different than seeing _him_. We thought that spirits represented the personality of the person, not his looks. You remember how gentle and timid your brother was. It was as if he _were_ a female. But he, himself, was tall and strong. Almost as strong as myself."

"Show-off," Safiya muttered, "My brother beat you with speed and you know it."

"Hey! You are not being kind to your old friend Haissam!"

Samir and Safiya only laughed. Yes, she missed her old friends, but that didn't stop the dread of marrying such a lustful, abusive man from residing within her. It was going to be more difficult than she thought.

And just when she thought her grip couldn't get any tighter, the pressure turned her knuckles Englishman white.

()….()

"Ya needta lighten up!" Allan complained, "You win. There, I said it! You loved Djaq more than I did!"

"I still love Djaq," Will argued, his voice tired of having to repeat himself.

"Well, ya needta smile every once an' a while."

"How can I smile when I feel no happiness?"

"Allan, stop bugging Will," Robin ordered. "It's only been a week, love wounds take much longer to heal than that."

"How long? I haven't seen 'im pick up carpentry since she left."

"It's his choice. Now both of you go to sleep."

Will and Allan obeyed, taking their poor excuses for proper bedding and lying down to sleep.

But Will could not sleep. He had barely gotten a wink since she left.

A few hours later, Will heard rustling from across the campfire.

"Master, what's wrong?" Robin couldn't sleep either, Will mused.

"I'm worried for Will."

"Why?"

"He's not getting better."

"He's begun to eat again…"

"Much," Robin groaned, "he may be eating, his fighting may have improved but he is still unresponsive," there was a pregnant pause before he could even hear Robin breath again. "I'm beginning to consider sending him to the Holy Land."

"Master! Surely Will isn't so bad that he must be sent off to fight?"

"No, not fight, Much. To find Djaq."

"How will he find his way there? Surely we all just can't leave Nottinghamshire."

Will sat up, surprising his two other companions. "Tell me how to find her."

"You will have to follow the next string of men who leave for the Holy Land," Robin sighed.

"When? Where?"

"Tomorrow, in Nottingham. They will be recruiting men and herding them to the port. From there you will go to France. Follow the regiment and they will board another ship heading straight for the Holy Land. It shouldn't take more than a week or so. But the real challenge will lie in finding her. Do you understand?" Will nodded. Robin smiled reassuringly, "Go to sleep, Will, you have a long journey ahead of you." And with that, Will slept for the first time in a week.

()….()

Safiya sat in the throne room, her dark robe covering everything but her dark eyes. They had just gotten here and already she had done something wrong.

"How could you allow yourself to cut your hair, Princess?"

"How could I allow myself to be killed if Allah spared my life when he did not spare my father's or brother's?"

Jamal opened his mouth as if to say something but decided against it and closed his mouth instead. He continued his pacing across the elegant floor of the Palace's throne room. "But, Princess, what will Prince Am'an think?"

"Prince Am'an will learn to accept it. Hair grows back." It had only been a few hours since her 'celebrated' return and already they had adorned her in the dark robes of her religion and placed a golden wreath on her head to distinguish her as Princess. As if the quality of her robes wasn't enough.

"What are we to do, Princess? He will be upset when he learns of your hair!"

"Then do not tell him!" Safiya shouted, "Now, be quiet. You are thinking in circles." She waited until he calmed down, sneaking an incredulous, wide-eyed glance at Haissam who only smiled nervously in return. 'What has become of this man?' she thought to herself. Turning back to Jamal, who was currently her advisor, she pressed on. "When will he be visiting?"

"Tomorrow. He has already heard of your arrival. It will be a good time to discuss when and where your wedding will take place."

Safiya took a deep breath. The idea of marrying did not sit well within her. But she agreed nonetheless if it would help her country, her people. "Is there any way we can try to negotiate peace?"

"Saladin will not give up, so we cannot."

"Shookran. That is all, Jamal."

"Yes, Princess Safiya," he murmured, bowing low. "Haissam, escort our Princess to her room, please."

Haissam nodded, moving to stand beside Safiya as she stood from her seat on her father's throne. He led her out of the Grand Throne Room and down familiar hallways and corridors. He stopped in front of a familiar door. "This is your room, Princess."

"Haissam, what would you do if you were king of Palestine?" Safiya asked, looking up at her strong friend.

"I would never allow you to marry that tyrant of a prince just to acquire his help. I would give him good reasons to aid King Saladin's and our fight. Reasons that he cannot refuse." Safiya smiled.

"You are wonderful."

"You are brave." Her smile fell.

"I am a coward, Haissam."

"Go. Rest. You have a long day tomorrow." He patted her head as she opened the door and stepped inside her old room for the first time in what seemed like years.

"Goodnight, Haissam," she murmured before shutting the door. Turning around, she shed her robes, leaving her in her brother's shirt and pants. So many memories resided in these clothes. She fingered the bag and vest lying on her bed, delicately running her hand across the coarse material of both items.

Her hands opened her bag with practiced ease and she rummaged around inside, searching for the tiny change purse she had kept. "There you are," she muttered, feeling the leather purse brush against her fingertips. It was out of her bag in a second and on top of her old vest. Her hand plunged back inside and searched for her gift. She smiled as her hands wrapped around it and she pulled it out. Her eyes averted as she secured it in her little change purse, her hands pressing it against her heart.

She searched her clothes for a way to keep it on her person at all times. She smiled as she found a pocket in her pants. "This is good news for tomorrow." And with that she put her other belongings under her bed and tucked herself in, all the while whispering prayers to Allah for a way out of this, clutching the change purse containing her little treasure close to her heart.

That night, she allowed herself to cry.

()….()

"Master, surely you can't go through with this!"

"It's not me, Much, it's Will." Him and Much and Will were making their way to Nottingham the next morning. Capes adorned, expressions solemn.

"Will, you can't do this!"

"Yes I can."

"Do you know what you're getting yourself into?"

"I need Djaq."

"You say that, but are you really sure that it's love?"

"Yes." This was the topic of conversation since all three of them set off that morning. The others were still sleeping.

"What if she _wanted_ to leave?" Much argued.

"Did you see her eyes when she was bidding us good-bye?" Will shot back, his patience wearing thin, "She didn't want to go. But she had to." Will's mind flashed back to that day. Her eyes told him everything though she said nothing. He'd loved that about their relationship. They didn't have to speak; all was said with simple eye contact. 'Please, don't make this difficult,' she'd been thinking. So he gave her her wish and made their good-bye quick.

"Yes, I saw them," Much sighed, "Nothing will persuade you, then." Much nodded in understanding resignation. "Just stay away from the battlefields. And be careful."

Robin laughed. "I don't think we'll need to worry about Will," he said, his hand clapping on Will's shoulder.

The conversation grew quiet, they were nearing Nottingham. It was obvious the town was alive with the arrival of a new recruitment of soldiers.

Upon entering, Robin left them to speak to the authoritative man standing beside the opening into the market. Both faces were serious as they conversed, glancing back at Will and Much occasionally. Eventually, both men came to an agreement and Robin returned. "I spoke to that man and he will watch after you for the duration of the trip. Once you have reached the Holy Land, however, he will let you go out on your own."

Will nodded, thanking Robin before bidding good-bye and following the Captain that Robin had spoken to into the market.

"Do you think he'll find her?" Much asked Robin as they stared off at the retreating dark cloak.

"He'll find her and bring her back, or he'll die trying."

()….()

**Translations**:  
Bas-- stop  
Na'am-- Yes  
Shookran-- thank you  
Hablah-- Fool, Idiot

AN: Thank you all for reading. I really enjoyed your reviews... Hopefully this answered some of your questions and posted more up in your mind! I know, I know, I used "posted" but right now, I can't think. I mean, come on. I'm doing this inbetween Japanese homework and watching another episode of Robin Hood. Yes, well. Hope you enjoyed it. REVIEW! Oh, and tell me if I missed any words in the translations. I'll edit them as soon as possible.


	4. She's All I Want

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 3: She's All I Want

()….()

A sharp rapping on Safiya's door caused her to shoot up into a seated position, reaching for her blade with her right hand while her left clutched the change purse to her chest protectively.

It wasn't until her eyes popped open that she realized she was back at home in the safety of her palace. Well, as safe as one could get in the middle of the Holy Wars. "Come in," she answered to the knocking, trying to calm herself. She watched as the door creaked open, revealing a young girl in dark robes not nearly as nice as the ones that hung on her intricate bedpost.

"Sabakhr Kher, Princess," the girl murmured, bowing. She glanced up at Safiya and met her eyes briefly, revealing two large, dark orbs surrounded by long, elegant lashes. Safiya had no doubt that this girl was beautiful and had she not worn the veil, men would be distracted by her presence. 'Especially in the forest,' she thought ruefully.

Safiya watched as the girl's eyes drifted over her hair, noting the boyish cut she had taken. "What is it?" Safiya asked her, feeling slightly defensive.

"I have been ordered to come and prepare you for today, Princess," her curious eyes dropped to the leather purse still tightly clutched in her hand.

Her eyes focused on the servant girl before her, feeling fury well up inside of her. "You will not assist me with such a simple task," she told her, seething, "Get out of my room! I can dress myself!"

The girl's eyes widened, revealing her fear before getting up from her bowing position and rushing out of the room. Safiya stared at the door as it slammed shut. Guilt sprouted within her at the way she treated the girl.

Sighing, she crawled out of bed and dressed herself in her robes, adjusting them accordingly before placing the golden wreath on her head. Looking down at the change purse sitting on her bedside table, she sighed. "I want to be back in the forest," she murmured, before gracefully reaching under her robes and putting the memorable item in her pants-pocket.

As Safiya neared her bedroom door, she heard voices whispering softly right outside her door. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but it was clear that one voice was male and the other was a female. Safiya opened the door to see Haissam and her maidservant. They seemed to be deep in argument.

"Layla, Safiya is not angry with you, I promise."

"You should have seen her face, Haissam, it was frightening."

They didn't seem to notice that she was standing before them, her eyes shifting between the two, silently observing each of the two people before her. Her eyes rested on Haissam's, shock flooding through her. She had seen that look before, she just couldn't remember where. Her mind raked for the memory, where had she seen those eyes-

"Will," she found herself murmuring, startling both of the people in front of her.

"What about Will?" Haissam asked her.

"Will had the same look you have right now. He used to look at something special, and that look would pass on his face. It was as if he'd seen a beautiful treasure he didn't want to let go."

Safiya smirked when she saw Haissam's cheeks turn red. She left him in indignant silence as she turned to face Layla, her big doe-like eyes staring at her in wonder. "How old are you, Layla?"

"S-seventeen, Princess," she responded, her eyes averting to the floor.

"Do not be afraid of me. I just have grown used to not having someone attending to my every need."

"I understand."

"From now on, when you come to my room, it will be for a chat, not to serve me, do you understand?" she said, her voice soft.

Layla's eyes shot up to meet hers, a new light in them. "Yes, Princess, thank you."

Safiya nodded and watched as Layla left Haissam and her to head back to the servants' quarters, leaving Haissam and Safiya to go to the Grand Throne Room. "That is where you will be meeting Prince Am'an," Haissam explained, "You know, you did not have to say that in front of Layla."

"It was the only way to shut you up. Did I offend you?"

"No, you did not offend me; it is just that I did not want Layla to know I feel that way about her yet." Safiya looked up at her guard in shock. "What?"

"I was right?"

"You were guessing?" Safiya was silent. "Well, yes, you are right. I plan to confess soon."

"She seems beautiful."

"She is."

"You've seen her already?" It was Haissam's turn at silence. "How?"

"I walked in on her while she was dressing." Safiya looked at him in wide-eyed shock, "No! I did not see her body, just her face! Safiya, do not think that of me."

"I did not think anything different of you." It was on that note that they reached the giant double doors of the Grand Throne Room.

"And, Princess, Will looked at _you_ that way."

"He did not."

"I saw it with my own eyes, you cannot deny it."

"I never saw what you keep saying was there. Therefore, I do not believe you."

Haissam moved in front of Safiya with a resigned sigh and pushed open both intricately carved doors.

All conversation in the room stopped. Safiya saw Jamal standing before a man seated on a portable throne. It had been a long time since Safiya had seen the cold, dark eyes of Prince Am'an. Her eyes took in his neat hair, long and silky, just like his clothes, falling just above his shoulders in layers. One would be able to tell he was royalty from the crown on his head to the expensive-looking shoes adorning his olive colored feet. His dark-olive hands rested on detailed armrests from a chair he himself brought and took the liberty of placing it across from her father's throne.

'Will would admire his throne,' she thought with a smile.

"Ahlan, Prince Am'an," she bowed as he stood to greet her.

"Salaam alaikuum, Princess Safiya," she straightened to see him bow as well, before straightening to make his way over to her.

Taking her hand and smiling, Prince Am'an spoke first in the silence, "Your eyes are the most exotic I've seen since my mother's."

"Shookran," she murmured, slipping her hand out of his and taking a step back, keeping her eyes trained on her feet. She hated that it had to be him that complimented her eyes. The thought of him being the only one to pay her a compliment of any kind for the rest of her life sent chills of dread up her spine.

"How were your travels, Prince Am'an?" she asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from her for the time being.

()….()

Will Scarlett had been walking alongside the Captain's horse for what seemed like days. He looked up at the sky and noted, much to his dismay, that it must've barely been noon, which meant that they'd only been moving for about four hours.

The whole time, the Captain and he only exchanged the necessary introduction. All that Will had learned of Captain Daniel Bradford of Ipswich in their short time together was that he was a strong man, he was still young, but he had a sort of wisdom about him, like Robin did at times. His hair was dark, almost black, and his eyes a soft brown that always seemed ready to comfort; his lips always carried a ready smile. He rode his horse a tall, proud man and it was obvious as to why he had been appointed as Captain. His strength could only be compared by few in his small regiment.

So far neither Will nor Daniel had said anything that could start a conversation to one another. Both were deep in thought as they progressed through the forests of England.

"So what are you setting out to do, William Scarlett of Locksley?" asked the Captain.

"I'm searching for someone."

"And you're sure that this person is in the Holy Lands?"

"Yes." Captain Bradford seemed to consider this as him and Will fell back into silence. It was silent until they reached port that evening.

Daniel called everyone to a meeting once they were done setting up camp. "You may go into town and enjoy yourselves. It will be your last night on English soil for a long time."

The men dispersed rapidly, leaving Will, Daniel and a soldier that kept himself close to the front. He lingered beside the campfire, toying with his things a little ways away from Daniel and Will. "They are much more enthusiastic than Robin," Will noted.

"That is because they have not experienced the horrors of war," Daniel explained, turning from the sight of the retreating recruits back to Will.

"Say, what's your name?" Will turned to see the man that had been fiddling with his bag in the distance sidling up to Will and Daniel.

"William Scarlett of Locksley," Will replied, ducking his head briefly in polite greeting.

"William, I'm Eric Chapham of Bath," he smiled unarmingly, causing Will to relax. "How would you like to accompany me to the local pub?"

"Sure," he replied, and after saying farewell to the Captain, he and Eric were off to the local pub.

It was easy conversation that flowed from Eric. And Will found himself happily listening, not really having any desire to speak. The pub itself was not hard to find, for as they hit the outskirts of town, they noticed only two buildings teaming with the soldiers in their traveling party. The bar residing in the local inn and the large pub two buildings down.

"The pub looks a little _too_ full," Eric commented, making his way toward the inn, which was only slightly less crowded. Will glanced in the direction of the stand-alone pub once more, taking note of the men dancing and laughing to music inside the building. The doors were open and people moved in and out. A slight smile threatened his lips before turning back to the inn delightfully taking in the abundance of space here where the pub did not. "Place is still a lot more busy than one would like," Eric sighed, "But as I always say: 'Tis better to enjoy a drink with too many than no one at all."

Will nodded in agreement as they took their seats at one of the center tables. He took this time to observe Eric, taking in his messy blonde hair that almost looked white, due to the sun just like any man that worked fields; his eyes were green with a young glint shining in their depths. He didn't look a day past twenty-two, Will mused as their mugs were set before them by the bartender himself.

"So, tell me… William?"

"Call me Will."

"Okay, Will, why are you going to the Holy Lands?"

"I'm searching for someone," Will replied, taking a sip of his ale.

"Ohh!" a high-pitched voice squealed, causing Will and Eric to look up at the voluptuous barmaid that stood at their table, her hand on her right. Said hip was pushed to the side, as she looked down over her ample breasts at Will. Her pale green eyes were framed by her curly blonde hair; they darkened once they settled on Will's eyes. "You are a handsome one," her lips settled into a pout, "Why are you not in uniform?"

"I'm no soldier, Miss," he answered.

"Well, no matter," she said as she sat down beside him, scooting closer than was comfortable for him. "Are you lonely? I could show you a good time…" her face was now inches away from his, but Will found himself unaffected, he just stared into her eyes, wishing she would just leave him be.

"No," Will replied, gently pushing her away.

"Don' tell me you don' like what you see?" she asked, crossing her arms under her chest, an ever present pout on her face. Will stared at her, thinking back to the time he would have been willing to accept any female company. Before Djaq. This girl would have been a goddess to him. His eyes tightened as he refocused on the girl.

"Go find another man to satisfy your needs," Will finally said.

The buxom girl could only glare and stalk away in a silent huff. Will's piercing green eyes followed her and was satisfied in his assumption that she would have no trouble finding a new partner as he watched her sit in another man's lap and hungrily lock lips with him before turning back to Eric.

"What'd you do that for? She was the best looking wench 'ere!" Eric wasn't angry; he wasn't even miffed, his eyes shone with genuine confusion.

"I don't want her," Will took another swig from his mug.

"Does this have anything to do with that someone you're looking for?"

Will set his cup down and let his eyes meet Eric's. He watched as understanding dawned in Eric. "It's a she." Will nodded. "What happened to her to make her have to go to the Holy Lands?"

Will contemplated an easy way to divulge any serious information. "She's gone to war."

"She's a soldier?"

"No."

"Then how has she gone to war if she's not a soldier?" Will was getting tired of talking about Djaq to him. It was different than if he were to talk to Robin. Or even Much, the most assertive of the group. They wouldn't have asked questions. They would have waited until Will was ready to speak. Although, Much would just begin talking of silly subjects until Will was willing to divulge any secrets he had.

"I don't want to talk about it." His eyes lowered to the table. He knew that Eric was looking upon him with some sort of pity, be it good-natured or offended. He did not want to see that look.

"Well, you'll ne'er believe wha' happened while I was relievin' myself in the woods today," Eric began attempting to steer them away from their previous topic. Will gratefully looked up at Eric and listened as he told of his episode in the woods, letting his mind tear away from Djaq for just this one night. If only to ease the pain.

()….()

"Prince Am'an, we must discuss what is to take place in order for you to aid us in the Holy Wars."

"Ah, yes. You wish to speak of the wedding, Princess," Am'an answered, his fingers drumming against his armrest.

"It was growing late and Safiya was growing tired of Am'an's presence. He constantly spoke of himself and left no room for any reply for her. Jamal sat beside Haissam, both watching the two interact. In just a glance in their direction, Safiya could tell that Haissam was bored and Jamal was anxious. Sighing, she turned back to Am'an as he began naming off dates.

"How soon would _you_ like it, my princess?" Am'an finally asked, "Would two weeks from tonight give enough time for preparation?" he continued, "In Persia, that is almost too much time—"

"Two weeks will be fine. When will you begin sending in your soldiers?"

"As soon as a messenger can reach my general."

"Shookran," she may have hated the idea of marrying this man, but she was willing to trade anything for the protection of her land. Her hand rested on her pocket, allowing her some comfort.

"I will be staying here until after the ceremony," Am'an began again, "after which we will travel back to Persia, your new home." Her hand clenched the cloth hiding her figurine. He was to stay here? Her eyes shot toward Jamal, glaring daggers of fury. He would only burden her more with tales of his triumphs.

"That will be all, Prince Am'an, I must retire to my room for I am tired," she stood up, turning to Haissam, "Haissam." Immediately Haissam shot up and was at her side, bowing and following as she began to exit the throne room. "Jamal you will escort our guest to his quarters." With that, Safiya and Haissam were on their way to her bedroom.

After making sure they were a safe distance from the throne room, she turned to Haissam, "I need to be alone, Haissam. Is Baba's lab still here?" Haissam nodded. "Good, I will be there if you need me." She turned down a hallway that was not her own and silently made her way to her father's laboratory.

Upon reaching the doors, she stopped.

()….()

**Translations:**

**Sabakhr Kher**-- Good morning  
**Ahlan**-- Hello(informal)  
**Salaam Alaikuum**-- Hello(formal)/ Peace be with you  
**Shookran**-- Thank you

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for keeping up with me. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Don't worry, you'll see more of Robin and the gang later. Just not this chapter. Constructive criticism is much appreciated.

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	5. In This Deep Dark Hole of Despair

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 4: In this Deep Dark Hole of Despair

()...()

Allan was tired of their bickering, that was that.

"You can't just throw yourself into danger like that! It's completely unnecessary."

"It'll be necessary enough to get Gisborne and the Sheriff out of Nottingham so you and Allan can get into the castle to steal the sheriff's taxes."

"You might get caught! Or worse… killed. I do not want to deal with living without you again."

"I won't get arrested; Little John will be waiting in the surrounding forest area for such an emergency."

"You and Much and Little John cannot possibly be enough to fend off Gisborne's guard, much less the sheriff's. Grow up, Robin."

"I don't see _you_ offering a better plan, Marian."

There was a pause as Marian thought, and Allan took the time to massage his temples. There wasn't a day when Marian and Robin didn't have a little spat over small matters such as these. Allan didn't honestly see what was so wrong with Robin's plan. Well, except the getting caught part, but even then Robin was too clever to get all caught up in that kind of trouble.

He glanced around the camp to see what everyone else was thinking. Much concentrated on the meal he was preparing, probably remembering what happened this morning when he tried suggesting that they kiss and make up. Granted, they were definitely kissing by lunch. Poor Little John was just sulking by his tree, far away from Mummy and Daddy. They had yet to unleash their wrath on him, and Little John wanted to keep it that way. Sighing, Allan returned to the little green scarf Will used to wear around his neck.

Another one lost to the Saracen Desert.

First Djaq, of whom he thought was the girl of his dreams. It turned out he was wrong. She had a duty elsewhere and just when he thought he was getting somewhere with her, she left with nothing more than a simple good-bye and a hug. Allan couldn't help but feel ashamed now at the jealousy that burned within him when he watched Djaq and Will bid their good-byes. It was clear he would never share that same connection with her. And that hurt more than Djaq's leaving them all.

Which was why he was silently congratulating Will on his decision to follow her. Because, no matter how much anyone else wanted to deny it, Djaq and Will were meant for each other. Well, at least from what Allan saw of the two of them.

"You know, Master, I agree with Marian. It's too dangerous."

"Well, then, Much, think of a better plan."

"Do you remember when you set fire to the mines?" Marian intervened.

"We were just leaving when the Sheriff came."

"How did he find out about it?" Marian continued, "A man came running to him, interrupting the tournament to tell him the mines were on fire. That's all you need! A man to run to the Sheriff and give the false alarm!"

"_That_ is your plan?" Robin asked, looking quite incredulous.

"Yes, do you have a better one?" Marian shot back, raising her eyebrows mockingly.

"I like that plan," Allan interrupted, fearing the reaction he'd get. "That means we don' 'ave to split up."

"You see, Master? Allan and I are even agreeing on something. Surely, it is a lot safer than just throwing ourselves at Gisborne's guard."

Allan glanced at Little John to see that he also agreed with Marian's plan. He turned back to the couple to see Marian giving Robin a smug look while he just stared at his men with a look of wide-eyed betrayal. "Fine," he said with resignation and a hint of a pout. "We start at dawn. Little John and I will go to Locksley to scout our messenger. Allan, Marian and Much, you all will wait for us back in the forest at our post close to Nottingham's gates."

"I'm glad you see it my way, Robin," Marian smiled, and Allan watched as she gave Robin a soft peck on the cheek, causing him to visibly melt and smile back, immediately forgetting his anger.

Sighing, Allan turned away from the sappy sight. That wasn't for him. It was for people like Robin, or Little John or…

Will. Will who had left just that morning for the Holy Lands to pursue a love Allan had begun to give up the day Djaq had left them. No one would believe that Allan was still hurting for his two lost friends, but he was a good liar. And lie he would do until he found a cure for his broken heart.

()...()

It had been years, it seemed, since Safiya could smell the herbs and chemicals sitting in this lab's baskets and chests set about the room in a disorganized manner. Only her father and she knew the location of every ingredient.

It felt like just yesterday she was here with King Shair of Palestine, learning from a teacher, friend and father all the different combinations of all the potions he discovered.

Her hands ran across the smooth, cold surface of her father's lab, a reminiscent smile on her face. She hadn't actually entered the lab until she was eight years old. She happened upon her father working on a project. She had been in awe of his work and of what he was doing. Once he looked up and noticed her, she begged him to teach her his magic. It was something she and her friends and brother never learned in their daily lessons.

She remembered the first time her father and she created their very first batch of black powder. It was not a success, but it caused the curiosity to grow and they began a project, a series of experiments in order to create the explosive substance that would aid them in their war.

That was before everything changed.

In an instant Saifya's eyes changed from pleasant nostalgia, to despair, her hands gripping the table-edge as she recalled the memory of that fateful day.

()...()

They decided to visit a neighbouring village that day, just a few miles west of their hometown. The air was hot and thick, only interrupted by an occasional breeze that made everything a bit more pleasant for Safiya in her dark, thick robes. She only had one layer of sweat coating her skin and her robes didn't stick to her as much as they usually did when she found herself outside on a hot day like this one.

Her father had wanted to check the conditions of the village to see how everyone was fairing in the hard times they were living in.

Safiya and Djaq found themselves accompanying him along with the few of King Shair's top guard, including Haissam and Samir and twenty others.

Shair, Haissam and Samir were touring the village with its mayor, speaking of politics and all the things that bored Djaq and Safiya.

That day Djaq and Safiya were in a weapons shop within faint earshot of the market square, where their father and the mayor were. He was teasing her, telling her she would never be able to fight like him and the boys.

"I will one day, Djaq, and you will see how I am much more skilled than you."

It was in that instant as Djaq, her gentle, teasing brother, began laughing that the first scream was uttered throughout the village.

Djaq and Safiya froze, their identical eyes both wide in understanding fear as all hell broke loose outside of the shop. "Safiya, hurry, get in the back," Djaq shouted as he shoved her through a curtain that led into the stockroom containing jars of ammo that filled the shop. "Hide!" she heard Djaq say through the curtain and she ducked behind a group of jars in the corner, taking off her golden wreath and hiding it in her robes.

Safiya listened as English guards came in and challenged her brother and the shop owner. Frustration welled up inside of her at being born a woman when she heard metal clash against metal in a fight that sounded outnumbered, her brother at the obvious disadvantage. She cringed as she heard a cry of pain come from what she assumed to be the shopkeeper.

She closed her eyes tight in torment as she heard the unmistakable sound of a sword running through a man, before withdrawing and letting the dead body fall to the floor with a low thud. English laughter could be heard through the curtain as footsteps neared her hiding place.

"Have we got any hideaways in here?" a mocking voice asked in English. Safiya did her best to conceal herself from view as he drew the curtain back and peered inside. "Nothin' alive in 'ere," she heard him saying to his companions before letting the curtain fall back in place as they all left the shop laughing.

Safiya waited until she was sure that it was completely quiet inside the shop before coming out of hiding. Pulling back the curtain, blood splattered against the walls filled her vision. Her eyes settled on the shopkeeper, praying silently to Allah for safe passage for his spirit, before returning to her search for her brother.

When she found him, she tried not to scream in anguish at the sight of him lying on the ground, his eyes wide with terror. With tears threatening to fall, she dragged his stiff body back to the room she was in. She could still hear the crashing sounds of swords colliding and cries of men as they lost their lives outside, and reasoned that there would be more men that would visit this shop looking for blood to spill.

Once in the back room, Safiya thought quickly, knowing full well that she could not fight with her robes on, but she would easily be identified as a girl if she were to discard them and wear her under-clothing. She stared at her brother, her dark eyes calculating as she finalized the decision to disguise herself as a boy. As her brother.

She took his sword with one hand and removed her veil with another, letting loose her long dark hair, allowing it to settle softly at her waist. Bracing herself, she gathered her hair and with one swift motion, cut her hair until it could no longer sway gracefully in the wind. Immediately she set to switching her brother's and her clothes, adjusting Djaq so that he would look just as Safiya would.

"Good-bye, Safiya, rest in peace," she murmured as she cupped her brother's veiled cheek before swiftly leaving the shop to fight the men who killed her brother.

"Baba!" her face paled before Djaq ran through the streets, searching for her father, Haissam and Samir, narrowly avoiding the fighting that occurred all around her.

She found them in the market square, fighting off the Englishmen. Gripping her sword, she charged into the fight, making sure to conceal her voice. Her sword was lighter than she expected and as she stood fighting the pale-faced men, she thought of her brother and immediately her fighting became more intense.

That day she killed her first man. Her current opponent left her an opening in which she was able to duck under his swinging sword and stab her sword diagonally upward through his throat. It did not make her feel ill or upset, yet she was not thrilled either. It was necessary. Her face cold as stone, she fought and killed her way through the sea of men in order to reach her father.

"Djaq!" her eyes did not waver from the man she was currently fighting, but her father continued anyway. "Since when have you gotten so good with your sword?"

Her sword ran through another man and she smiled at the ability for her father to have a sense of humor. "Since I've had a reason, Baba," she shouted back. As she ran toward him, she was blocked as another English soldier came down up her with his sword. She instinctively blocked with her own sword and continued to fight the man.

"Where is Safiya, Djaq?" her father shouted at her over the fight after a few more moments. That single question caused her to falter, giving room for the man to slice a wound into her thigh. She winced but didn't make a sound as she stabbed the man's stomach before he could do anything else.

"She's dead!" Djaq answered through clenched teeth. "Safiya is dead!" It grew harder for her to wield the sword because, as she had killed several men, her sword became heavy with their blood. Her wound was almost unbearable, but she managed to begin a fast-paced walk to her father, narrowly avoiding and dodging swords on the way. She looked up in time to see the look in her father's eyes as he heard the news. Pain at the loss of his only daughter. She wanted to comfort him, tell him that _she_ was Safiya but she held back, knowing that it wouldn't matter who it was that had died today, her father would still feel that pain.

Suddenly, his eyes changed. They weren't hurt anymore. They were shocked and mixed with a physical pain as he looked down at his side. Djaq's gaze followed his and time seemed to slow as she took in the growing red stain on his white tunic. She watched as his hand pressed against the wound only to be covered in his own blood.

The sound of her blood rushing filled her ears and the sounds of battle were drowned out as she locked eyes with her father again to hear him yell at her to run, to save herself. But she was frozen, she couldn't tear herself from the scene before her as she witnessed another soldier come down upon her father and swiftly knife his chest and return to battling the man to her father's right.

Djaq looked to both sides of her to see two men of the guard engaged in battle, blocking off anyone who would try to reach her still form. Her sight trailed back to her father as she mouthed the last words he would know.

'Ana behabak.'

With tears in her eyes, Djaq turned and ran, her sword still clenched firmly in her hand and her thigh sending burning sensations throughout her body in reaction to having to use her wounded leg for such an extraneous purpose. She reached an empty looking shop around the corner of the square and slipped inside, positioning herself behind the center table and crouching below its surface line in order to remain undetected. The tears threatened to fall but she kept them in check.

It was a miracle she was able to stay still for so long, for she didn't allow herself to move until all sound was gone from the village. It was sunset when she finally allowed herself to straighten stiffly and tend to her wound. After hurriedly doing so, she quickly grabbed a leather satchel from the shelf and began loading it with herbs and other ingredients to the potions she mixed. Snatching a few vials before closing the bag, she rushed out of the shop to see the damage that had been done.

Upon reaching the square, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. There were bodies everywhere. She had to stay on her toes and hop from blood-drenched piece of earth to blood-drenched piece of earth to reach the spot she last saw her father. She stopped, unable to move forward; there he was, lying before her feet, eyes wide with the terror of the battle they had just faced. Not caring about dirtying her knees with the spilled blood of those surrounding her father, she kneeled, feeling the need to be closer to him.

She felt tears once again sting her eyes as her hands touched his stiff face. "Baba," she murmured as she kissed his dirtied forehead, not caring of the taste of blood as her lips met his skin. Her hand reached up and wiped at her lips. She felt those same lips quiver and her throat constricting as she allowed herself to cry out in pure agony, letting her tears stream her cheeks. "Baba! Baba, Ana bahabi!" she cried as she threw herself on his chest and wept.

She had lost everything. She lost her brother, she lost her father, her teacher, her king, and most importantly, she lost herself. While Djaq still lived on, Safiya was dead.

Sobs were all that could be heard echoing throughout the square, all Djaq could hear was the pain screaming inside of her. She did not know how long she had been crying but it was close to sunset when she heard rough footsteps scuffing the ground and bodies from behind her.

"A little scrawny, but you'll do," she heard a man say. An Englishman. With a cackle of delight, he roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her up. Desperately, Djaq grabbed at her father with a strangled, surprised outcry. Her agonized screaming only grew louder as she struggled against him to keep him from binding her hands together with the thick, tough rope.

But it was all for naught, Djaq realized, as he dragged her screaming, struggling body to the cart that took her to England.

()...()

Blinking rapidly, Safiya found herself surprised to be in King Shair's laboratory. "That memory was too vivid," she muttered. Sighing, she made her way to the window and leaned against the sill, looking through the opening in her veil up at the moon, observing its quiet beauty. She was shocked to see how far it had progressed in the sky. "It is getting late." It was with that quiet statement that she returned to her bed-chambers for some much needed rest.

()...()

"Will!" he heard that thick Saracen accent shout his name. That accent that he had become accustomed to hearing, that voice he had come to love.

Slowly, the darkness turned into a bright light, which then proceeded to turn into the green treetops of Sherwood Forest. So he was lying on his back. All he knew was that there was a terrible pain in his forehead. Djaq's eyes soon filled his vision and all he could see was the wide-eyed worry shining in their dark depths.

"Djaq, run, save yourself," he rasped out. He could not understand why his throat was so hoarse.

"No, Will, I cannot leave you, now do not worry, I will help you," her hand reached up to caress his face, a warm tenderness taking the worry's place.

"Djaq, it's not safe—No!" he cried out as he watched a soldier come up behind her and stab her with his dagger. In that instant she was limp against his chest, dead.

"Djaq!" Will yelled, immediately shooting up from his lying position close to the campfire. He looked around him and noticed that all were still sound asleep except for the soft brown eyes of Captain Daniel, concern evident within them.

Looking back up at the sky, he noticed the sun lighting up the eastern horizon slowly. He heard the distant sound of some of the soldiers stirring as the camp lazily came to life just by the change in breathing patterns. Rustling could be heard beside him as Daniel got up and began preparing for departure. He looked at Will as he put on his boots. "It's about time to leave."

Will was up in an instant, grabbing a plate from the nearest cook, while silently preparing himself for travel.

()...()

**Translations:**  
**Baba**-- daddy  
**Ana behabak**-- I love you (directed at a male)

**Author's Note**: This is the third time I've edited this. Let's see if it'll work.


	6. I Dream of You

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 5: I Dream of You

()….()

Gentle nudges persuaded her to wake up the next morning.

"Safiya," a gentle murmur filled her ears, calmly as if it were her mother prodding her awake. Memories washed over her and immediately she was transported to a time when worry was only a fleeting emotion. The smell of her mother's sweet perfume permeated her senses and a picture formed in her mind of the gentle, smiling eyes of her mother just as she was waking up her only daughter.

Safiya's lips stretched into a content smile as her childhood mind looked up into the caring face of her mother. "Sabakhr kher, Mama," Safiya found herself murmuring softly, as she stretched against the plush bed.

"Sabakhr Noor, Safiya, but I am not your mother."

Safiya's eyes shot open and she was immediately met with the doe-like eyes of Layla. Her smile remained as she mumbled an apology, "My mother used to wake me up like that when I was a child."

Layla's eyes crinkled at the corners, it being the only clue that she was smiling. Her eyes were sad and sympathetic. Safiya knew that she was thinking of the Queen's death.

"Do not feel sorry for me, Layla."

"Yes, Princess," she murmured, watching as Safiya got out of bed in order to prepare for the day. She picked up a covered object and began toying with it as she watched Safiya dress herself.

"Two days of this Prince and already I am tired of him," Safiya groaned. Behind her she heard Layla laugh quietly. "How will I endure our marriage without killing him?"

This caused Layla to let loose a burst of laughter. "Perhaps you should kill him now to be done with it," Safiya laughed at Layla's light tone.

"If I were to do so, Haissam would be named King of Palestine, you would be his Queen and I will run away back to England, to the men in the forest."

"So it is true?" Layla asked, obviously ignoring the comment about her and Haissam, "You really did live in a forest with only men?" Safiya nodded, amused at the wonderment displayed in Layla's eyes. "They did not dishonour you? Were they armful in anyway?"

"No! They were nothing less than civil!"

"Haissam told me of how a green-eyed man looked at you."

"Are you and Haissam so close that he tells you everything?" Safiya shot back, feeling defensive.

"He does not tell me everything, Safiya, but there are times when I wish he would."

This stopped Safiya in her actions, causing her to move to sit by Layla on the bed, "What do you mean?"

"He's started acting different lately. He's always nervous and sometimes he stops in the middle of his sentences and just stares at me strangely."

Safiya smiled knowingly. "Do you love Haissam?"

"Is it that obvious?" Safiya nodded, Layla sighed. "I've scared him away, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't, just be patient, he will tell you."

"If you say so," Safiya watched as Layla toyed with the trinket, her eyes intently focused on it. "What of this man? The one who gave this to you. Haissam told me that he had green eyes that were always alert, especially when they were trained on you."

"Haissam saw all of this in the short time that he saw Will?" Safiya shook her head. "I do not believe him."

"Why? Haissam is an honest man."

"He may be honesty, but he sees things that are not there."

"Do you think of your forest men often?"

"Every time I am forced to listen to another of Prince Am'an's stories. I think of Robin, our leader, and I hope that he does not have much to worry about, that he has no problem stealing from the rich to give to the poor. I think of Much and his cooking, and hope that he never has to complain of food. I think of Little John and hope that he has not had to knock Robin unconscious for his temper. I think of Allan and worry for his morale, his motivation, that he is still caring for the camp," Safiya took a deep, shuddering breath as Will's face popped into her mind, "and Will. I always think of Will. Of his carpentry, of his face, of his smell, and I keep a smile on my face, I continue tolerating Prince Am'an and his arrogance. Because if I do not tolerate Prince Am'an, if I do not think of Will, I would give up. I would lose all the strength that I have left and kill this annoying man and run away back to Nottinghamshire."

"You love this… Will," Layla stated silently, watching Safiya as she returned to dressing herself.

"No. I cannot love Will, Layla; I must not, for my country." She finished wrapping the headdress and accepted the trinket from Layla before placing it in her pocket, "Come, Prince Am'an is waiting."

()….()

"What's 'at?" Will heard from somewhere above him. He was bent over a piece of wood, carving.

The regiment had stopped to rest for a midday meal and Will had no appetite, so he took a small piece of fallen wood from the French forest surrounding the camp, sat himself at the edge of the site and began carving.

Will looked up at Eric, his eyes squinting against the sunlight shining down upon this meadow. "A project."

Eric gave a short sigh with a small smile twitching at his lips. "What're ya makin', I meant."

"I don't know. Not yet."

"Is it for 'at girl?" Will shrugged and went back to picking at the piece of wood in his hands with his knife. "You never told me what this girl is like," Eric continued, sitting next to Will with a piece of bread in one hand, "Want some?" he offered, holding up the bread.

Will shook his head as he paused for a moment in his aimless whittling to look at the man sitting beside him.

"C'mon, Will, tell me about this girl. You've got me curious!"

Will gave an amused grin as he watched Eric take a pouting bite into his midday meal. "You really want to know?" Will asked, watching as Eric nodded before continuing, "Her name is Djaq—"

"She 'as a man's name?"

"Don't interrupt if you want me to describe her so badly. Her real name is Safiya, and yes she is a Saracen, and she took up her brother's name after his death and disguised herself as a boy. She got enslaved soon after and ended up in England, with us."

"What's she like?"

"She's strong-willed, spirited, funny, smart, beautiful, brave—"

"Whoa, whoa, before you bore me with a list, tell me of the first time you saw 'er. Did ya know she was a girl?"

"Not at all, she was being transported to the mines outside of Locksley to work for the Sheriff of Nottingham. Our gang stopped the cart and basically freed the slaves."

"When did you find out 'e was a she?"

"Shortly after we stopped the cart. I happened upon her while she was bathing."

"Issat when you fell in love?"

"No, it was when I allowed myself to think of her as beautiful."

"When did you realize you were in love with 'er?"

"When she left for the Holy Land." Eric stared at Will in shock, "When was this?" he asked.

"About a week and a half ago."

Eric continued to stare at him in shock. After a moment, Eric stuffed the remaining bread in his mouth and chewed slowly, turning to face the French forest before them. "You better find this girl and sweep 'er off 'er feet, or I will be severely disappointed with Fate," he grumbled around his food.

()….()

"Princess Safiya, I am sure you do not know the extents of my abilities quite yet. Allow me to tell you about…"

Safiya could only roll her eyes as he launched into another one of his stories. This time, however, she could not excuse herself with a story of fatigue, for they were walking in the gardens surrounding the palace and it was broad daylight. She could think of nothing that would get her away from her self-absorbed fiancé. Instead she allowed her mind to wander.

Immediately, instead of the arrogant tone of the man beside her, she began hearing soft tones of a green-eyed man she tried in vain to forget. She felt his warm breath caress her cheek as he whispered tender confessions she longed to hear, but knew never would come, especially now. She imagined herself lying on the forest floor, watching him sleep next to her only a few feet away, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the fire. It was something she did when she couldn't sleep. It calmed her. Sometimes, she found herself watching him until light began to flood through the forest at sunrise. Only then would her eyes droop shut, feigning sleep until Much was at least awake before she began to stir.

Sometimes she would open her eyes to find him looking at her. Her heart would skip a beat at the image of his intense eyes just observing her. She would, out of discomfort, ask him if something was wrong and he would reply that he was merely thinking and was staring at nothing in particular. It would cause disappointment to blossom inside of her, and she would immediately push the feeling away.

"Princess, are you alright?" her thoughts were interrupted by the disappointing voice of Prince Am'an of Persia.

"I am fine, continue with your story, I am charmed by it."

"That is not true; your mind was somewhere else, being charmed by something else. I could tell by the wistful look in your eyes."

"Wistful because I wish I could have witnessed—"

"Princess, you have a message," she heard Samir, thankfully, interrupt her from behind.

"What is it, Samir?"

"Prince Malik Ayyubi-n-Shaadi will be visiting you tomorrow after lunch.

"Tell the messenger that I eagerly await his arrival."

"He will only stay the day for he must return to Egypt, Princess."

"I understand. You are dismissed."

Safiya and Am'an resumed their walking, but she noticed that Am'an was silent.

"What is wrong, Prince Am'an? You are not finishing the story you were telling me."

"You seem more eager to visit with Prince Malik than you are to be in my company."

"That is because he is an old friend that I happened to see in the forests of England. He kept my secret that I was Princess of Palestine, otherwise those men I stayed with would have treated me differently."

"These men of the forest… were they…" He paused, trying to find the right word.

Safiya's temper flared at what he was implying. She exploded on Am'an, "How dare you make such assumptions. Those men were more respectful toward me than any other man I know."

"You do not find me respectable? I have been more than civil toward you! But I can see that I am unwanted. Excuse me, Princess," and with a curt nod, he was walking back to the palace in a childish huff.

Safiya watched him with a look of annoyance, "Guy of Gisborne would be more welcome than you, hallah, Prince Am'an of Persia."

()….()

"Jamal," Safiya said curtly as she walked into her father's office. Jamal was seated at the small table in the corner of the room. His own desk. Safiya sighed and tried again, "Jamal!"

His head shot up from the stacks of parchment and scrolls piled onto his small desk. "Princess! I hope I have not kept you waiting?" he said, standing up and giving a deep bow.

Safiya rolled her eyes and sat on the throne her father used to sit on when he conducted private business. Her eyes roamed the much smaller throne room. The grandeur displayed in the Grand Throne Room was not here. Her father's desk was of a dark, wooden material that she knew to be rare in this part of the world. The fancy decorations that adorned the grander room were replaced with simple souvenirs that she and her brother made, along with two large sets of bookshelves containing, as what Safiya perceived, all the knowledge available in the world. In both English and Arabic.

"Do not worry about whether or not I have been waiting," she answered running her hand along the surface of the desk before her. "Why did you allow Prince Am'an to include me in the agreement?"

"You are the only term, Princess," he stated, making his way around his desk to stand in front of her.

"Why did you use me as a bargaining tool, Jamal? Baba would never allow such a thing to happen."

"It was the only way he would listen to me, Princess, I even offered land."

Safiya nodded, noting the way in which Jamal had changed. "What happened to you, Ammo?" she asked him quietly. "You used to smile more, and you held yourself with more importance. Now, worry is engraved into your face and your shoulders are slouched in defeat. Ammo, what has happened to you?" Her eyes were filled with concern as she took in his weakened form.

Jamal sighed and offered Safiya a tired smile that did not reach her eyes. "I never wanted your father's burden, Safiya, I only wanted to lighten it."

Safiya could only look upon him with sympathy. "Go, you have the rest of the day off, I can hold the palace down for one day. Get some rest."

"Shookran, Princess," and with a bow he left with a brighter smile on his face.

"Tikrami, Jamal."

()….()

"She does not want me. She would rather be with those men in the forest." Am'an could not help the pacing and the thoughts that were beginning to result from him being alone in his sleeping quarters. "Our wedding is in five days and she cannot find it in her power to even listen to my triumphs." A roar of rage barreled out of him and he found himself impulsively punching the wall next to him.

The action allowed him to calm down a little bit, "What do I have to do to win her loyalty?" After a moment, he slumped against the wall in defeat, before a sudden thought occurred to him. "In five days, she will have no choice but to forget those men, and I have the rest of her life to win her devotion." A sinister grin slowly spread across his face as he thought of all the freedoms he would have with her once they were married. "And I can do anything I want."

Somewhere else in the palace, Safiya felt a feeling of dread shoot up her spine.

()….()

"So how was your walk with the impressive Prince Am'an, hmmm?" Safiya glared at Haissam as she removed her headdress, much to the shock of Layla.

"You can remove yours, too, Layla. I will not condemn you." Layla moved to begin the removal of her headdress.

"No! Don't remove your veil!" Haissam shouted.

"Why not? Are you terrified of her beauty?" Safiya teased.

"N-no!"

"Then remove your veil if you wish to, Layla."

"Thank you, Safiya," she murmured as she proceeded to remove her headdress, much to Haissam and Samir's shock.

The four friends were seated in the secondary throne room, where Safiya had met with Jamal earlier that day. It was getting close to dinner, now, and the four young Saracens decided to rest before having to force their smiles throughout Am'an's loquacious soliloquies.

Safiya allowed silence to ensue as she watched Haissam gawk at Layla's light, olive-toned face. Her big doe eyes were framed beautifully by her heart shaped face and full, young cheeks. Her lips were small, but then Safiya hadn't met a Saracen with the full lips she had seen in England. Rouge cheeks were the first sign Safiya saw of Layla's discomfort and she kept glancing in Haissam's direction to see if he had stopped staring yet.

"Do you do this often, Haissam? Stare lovingly at girls? Samir is over the initial shock already. Are you so dramatic that you must stare at her longer than is to be expected of a gentleman?"

That seemed to break Haissam out of his spell and he turned to Safiya in slight annoyance. "I am capable of being a gentleman, Safiya."

"Then stop gawking at the love of your life and return to the ground, Haissam," she told him in English. He blushed and sat on the floor in a pout. The rest followed, forming a small circle on the floor.

"What about you, Safiya? Where is your green-eyed admirer?"

"He does not admire me, Haissam, I have told you."

"You are right, he loves you, more than you can see."

"You see things that are not there!"

"Can you speak in Arabic, please?" Layla interrupted, speaking for both Samir and herself.

"I'll speak in Arabic when…" Haissam stopped speaking when he met Layla's challenging gaze. Safiya watched as Haissam's hazelnut eyes changed. Almost immediately, Haissam's surprising speechlessness turned into an intense stare that almost looked like a trance. Layla squirmed under his gaze and a new blush graced her cheeks.

"Haissam?" Layla muttered, being the first to break eye-contact. Safiya glanced at Samir to see him roll his eyes in amusement.

"Haissam, stop falling in love." Haissam shot a glare at her as he turned back into the circle, crossing his burly arms.

"Thank you, Safiya, now go announce it to all of Jerusalem just in case no one heard you."

"Heard what?" Layla interrupted, her big eyes focused innocently on Haissam in curiosity. Haissam glanced at her in annoyance while mumbling something sounding suspiciously like 'it's too soon' to Safiya.

"Now, Prince Am'an," Samir interrupted, a glint of amusement shining through the solemn barrier he usually carried in his face, "how was your walk with him?"

"Dull, just like every walk, my mind wandered again—"

"What did you think about?" Layla asked eagerly.

"I thought of the forest."

"Did you think of him?"

"Now he's all that comes to mind when I think about the forest."

"Who?" Haissam paused, thinking of the name, "Will?" Safiya nodded, feeling her own cheeks turn red at this point. That didn't stop her from noticing Haissam subtly scoot over the two centimeters it took for his and Layla's knees to touch. "You are falling in love with him?"

Safiya remained silent as she glanced in Layla's direction to see her red cheeks and her eyes focused on their knees, every once and a while trailing up to take in his face. Immediately Safiya knew what Layla was thinking about. She was thinking about a day when she would never have to hide her face from him. She thought, eagerly, of a day when she could stare at his strong, burly body and his face freely. She thought of a day when they could hold each other in their arms without ever worrying about being indecent or scandalous.

Safiya knew Layla was thinking something along those lines because she caught herself wondering if there ever would be a day like that for Will and her. She shook her head, clearing such thoughts out of her head.

It would never happen now.

()….()

Will and Daniel walked along side each other while the other men caroused in the local pubs. Their footsteps could be heard along the wooden pier opening up to the Mediterranean Sea as both kept each other's silent company. They were both deep in thought as they made their way along the pier.

Will's thoughts were in England, before any of his happened, before his heart left with Djaq, before he found himself traveling with a regiment of men in order to find her in a land he only heard of when speaking of war. His mind was on the night before that day. He was watching Djaq sleep, his eyes traced the soft contours of her face, imagining his hands doing the same exploration. A blush had graced his cheeks at the thoughts of his lips doing such a thing. That was the night when he accepted that he had fallen in love with her.

"Eric told me how in love you are with this girl you are chasing."

"A princess," Will murmured, thinking completely of the situation he was in for the first time.

"Hm?"

"How do I find a princess?"

Understanding seemed to dawn in Daniel's eyes.

"Do you know what country she's a princess of?" Will shook his head. "We will be landing in Palestine. I can point you in the direction of Jerusalem. You can start there."

"Thank you, Captain."

"From now on, I'm Daniel. Now let's head back to camp. We set sail tomorrow."

--

**Translations**:

**Sabakhr Kher**-- Good morning  
**Sabakhr Noor**-- Good morning (response only)  
**Hallah**-- right now  
**Ammo**-- Uncle (on the father's side)  
**Shookran**-- Thank you  
**Tikrami**-- You're welcome  
**Baba**-- Daddy

**A note about pronunciation**: Usually when there are two of the same consecutive letters, that mean you put an emphasis on that letter. Kind of like over pronunciating it, or something of the sort. Oh, and the "Kh" is that phlegm thing.   
**A note about the use of Ammo:** In the Middle East one would call your uncle on your father's side Ammo, but also, if it is a man that your family is really close to, Ammo, if allowed, can be used. Consent kind of has to be given. It's like calling your mom's best friend Auntie-so-and-so. So basically, Djaq and Jamal are NOT related.

I feel awful about having to explain these things to you guys, but I hope you liked the chapter. There wasn't much there but a lot of explanation. Just thought I'd pop something out before I buried my face in my textbooks and began studying for finals. Thank you for reading, constructive criticism is much appreciated.


	7. Your Sweet Voice Echoes in My Mind

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 6: Your Sweet Voice Echoes in My Mind

()….()

Much looked in the direction of Marian and Robin's sleeping forms as he picked up a basket and started going through the berries they were to eat for breakfast. Of course, he was about to prepare some rabbit meat, but he wanted to be sure of the berries first.

Allan had picked them yesterday and Much never trusted Allan when it came to knowledge of herbs and berries. He was good at lying, though, he gave him that, and that gave him purpose here in the group.

Well, according to Much.

"One can never be too careful." Much chanced another glance at Allan. "Well, at least he's himself again." True that Allan was not quite back to his sarcastic, teasing self, but he has slowly started making snarky comments to Much again. That, Much decided, were definite signs of improvement.

Much jumped when he heard rustling from somewhere behind him. Little John's spot.

"Good morning, fancy some rabbit meat and berries for breakfast?" Much greeted him, only to receive a grunt in reply. Much turned around to face the now sitting Little John. "I know you aren't much of a morning person, but the least you can do is tell me good morning in return." Little John proceeded to give him a dead-panned look that clearly told Much to shut up. "Surely it isn't that difficult, Little John."

Heaving a tired sigh, Little John forced out, "Good morning," and then looked back at Much, snapping, "Better?"

"Better," Much agreed, and returned to sorting berries. "What do you make of Will? Do you think he's dead?"

Little John, who'd woken up quite a bit during Much's question, had made his way to sit beside Much and was helping with the berries. "Him? No."

Leaving the berry-sorting to Little John; Much started preparing the rabbit. "I miss them. Will and Djaq. The camp's not the same without them." He glanced in Little John's direction to see a silent agreement plastered on his face. "How far do you think Will is? It's been almost a week, so I'd say he's getting pretty close."

"I suppose so."

"I hope he finds Djaq and brings her back. We need them both."

"They need each other."

Much looked at Little John, "Yes, you're right."

()….()

Her calm, cool posture was the only thing that was calm and cool about her. Inside it was all she could do not to bounce in her seat at the excitement of seeing an old friend.

She had to remain mature and poised, for the purpose of formalities.

Her back straightened as soon as the door opened, with Haissam leading Malik in, both bowing at the waist as Safiya stood up.

"Malik Ayyubi-n-Shaadi," Haissam announced before leaving the two of them alone. Sitting back down, Safiya gestured to Am'an's traveling throne, beckoning him to sit down.

"I prefer to stand, Princess, thank you," Malik paused, thinking, "You were found in the forests of England?"

Safiya nodded, dreading the line of thought that was being followed.

"But your brother, I saw your brother. He told me not to treat him as if he were a prince from Palestine." Safiya reddened underneath her veil at the memory of that day. She sent a meaningful look to Malik and watched as realization dawned on him. "Prince Djaq was truly Princess Safiya. You cut your hair and dressed as a boy!" Safiya nodded, "Then your brother… is he…"

"Dead. Baba kamman."

"Why did you not tell those forest men that you were a princess?"

"How could I? They would have treated me more delicately, as if I were glass."

"My old friend Djaq, then, is gone?"

"Yes." She watched as Malik contemplated this new information.

"They knew that you are—"

"Yes."

"Truly virtuous. Fighting for good, believing in peace, and treating a woman with respect. Now, answer me this, Princess Safiya, why did you not accompany me back here to take your place on this throne?"

"I was afraid," she told him after some time, "I had left on such a bad note that I felt that I could never return." Malik nodded in understanding, moving to the large window to her left that overlooked the palace gardens. Safiya followed after a short time. "But that is not why you are here, I can tell."

She watched Malik as he continued looking out over the gardens, looking troubled before opening his mouth and speaking, "There is another regiment of English soldiers arriving in two days. They will be headed to Acre to aid their king. When are Prince Am'an's fighters coming?"

"Have they not reached you?" Her eyes followed Malik's as he shook his head. Pursing her lips, Safiya turned to the doors and called for Haissam. Upon his entry, she told him, trying to control the livid expression in her voice, to fetch Am'an and bring him to her.

She turned back to the window and rigidly looked out, trying to calm herself before she exploded.

"Ahhh… my princess, did you miss my glorious presence already?"

"Have you ordered your soldiers to move to Prince Malik's camp like you promised?"

"I never made such a promise, Princess," he answered in just as cold a manner as she.

She kept her eyes on the flowers, trying to keep the intense inferno inside her at bay, "Do you realize another regiment of Englishmen are about to set foot on our soil and that, without your fighters, we will not have anymore soil to our name?"

"I will send one regiment to counter act the Englishmen then, but that is all."

Her hand moved to her pocket and tightened around her only memory of Will and the forest. "And what of the rest of your army?"

"Until our wedding night, they will remain under my command, not yours, Princess."

That undid any control that she had over her anger as she whirled around and fixed him with a look of absolute hatred. "We do not have _time _to play such games! My men and countless others are losing their lives for land that was meant for everyone and not just our people! Your selfishness is costing us a chance at resolving this conflict so that we can go back to living out our lives as they should!"

"Princess," Malik began, in English, "perhaps you should go calm yourself. I can see you are beginning to feel the strain of being a ruler."

"I hate him, Malik, I hate him more than I hate anything else," she choked out in English before storming out of the room.

()….()

"Safiya, let us in. We want to see that you are alright."

"You can hear that I am alright. I think that is enough, Haissam, go away." Layla heard Safiya shout through the door to her father's lab.

She was with Haissam in the entry hall to the lab. Safiya had locked herself in after storming out of the Grand Throne Room from her meeting with Malik. Layla only knew from Haissam that Safiya was angry with Am'an and not Malik. That Malik had always been a good friend since their childhood.

"Please, Safiya, Layla and I want to see that you have not done anything rash," and she listened in confused silence as he shouted something else in English about Am'an.

Whatever it was had worked because they heard the lock click open and Haissam waited before opening the door to the sight of Safiya seated on the windowsill, her hand clutching, what Layla assumed to be, that toy to her heart. It was as if she were a statue, sitting straight and still. To Layla, it showed the pain and stress that Safiya tried to control, slowly taking over her.

"Your toy… from that man in the forest," Haissam started, "I have always wanted to look at his handiwork. May I?" he inquired, taking tentative steps toward her as if she were going to explode any moment.

Safiya turned her head from the window to glance in Haissam's direction, her eyes completely void of any emotion, before turning back to what she was watching. Her hand extended out, presenting the small purse that held Safiya's treasure to Haissam.

Gently, he took the purse and opened it, drawing out the trinket Layla had seen only days before. She watched as his large hands carefully turned over the wooden toy, his eyes running over its carefully carved surface. "He certainly has talent—" he stopped as he observed on side of it intently. "Safiya have you actually looked at this?"

"No."

"You should, you have waited long enough, I think," he told her, handing back the trinket without the purse. Giving him a confused look, she plucked it from his hands and turned it to the same side Haissam was staring at.

Layla watched as Safiya's eyebrows, once furrowed in confusion, knitted together in the tell tale sign of anguish. Her eyes watered and she clutched the toy back to her chest as a sob escaped her. Layla watched as Safiya turned from a rigid, stone-like body to a body convulsing and shaking uncontrollably with sobs, occasionally crying out in emotional pain.

"What is it, Safiya, what is wrong?" Layla asked, worry consuming her voice.

"Now… I can… n-never… forget the forest," Safiya told her, her voice wet with tears as they spilled out of her eyes. The sobs interrupted her speech making it difficult to understand, but Layla understood. She understood her pain. "I can never forget… what I left. What I… I could have had. Oh, Will, you… will never know… my feelings!" Layla moved to comfort Safiya but she turned toward the window, curling up against the corner. "Leave me," she told them barely above a whisper.

Layla looked at Haissam, not knowing what to do, but was instead met with an intense caramel gaze trained directly on her. She could not help but turn away, feeling discomfited.

"Come, Layla, let us leave," Haissam murmured, moving to stand next to her. She could feel a type of resolve settle over him as he followed her out of the lab.

Upon closing the door, Layla found herself pushed into the corner of the entry hall by Haissam. She spun around to face him, her eyes wide with shock at his suddenly harsh action. Looking around her, she was out of view of anyone who might be passing by, seeing as the hallway was completely out of sight.

She looked back up at the burly man with dark olive skin and unruly hair that curled only slightly. His big caramel eyes were focused on her in such a way that made her cheeks burn. Such intensity she had never seen _anyone_ look at her with. Only him. This time, however, as she looked into his eyes, she saw something different, kind of like the resolve she had felt emanating from him earlier and she found she couldn't look away.

"Haissam?" she murmured, unsure of what was going on.

"Do not ever take your veil off in front of anyone, even in our little circle of friends."

"Why? It is just us, it is not anyone else but close friends."

"I do not want anyone to see your face."

"You cannot be serious, Haissam, what exactly do you mean ordering me around like—"

"I want to be the only one." Layla stopped mid-sentence and stared at him with wide eyes.

"What?"

"I want to be the only one to know the definition of your cheekbones, your skin tone and its texture. I want to be the only man to know how soft and kissable your lips look, how beautiful you are and I want to be the only man distracted by that beauty."

Layla continued staring at him in shock as Haissam slowly brought down the part of the veil covering the lower portion of her face. His hand cupped her cheek and softly rubbed his thumb against it. "Soft, just as I'd imagined, but what of your lips?" he whispered, almost breathlessly.

"Do you wish to find out?" Layla whispered back, feeling just as breathless as he sounded.

"Are you inviting me?" Haissam murmured, leaning in closer until their lips were inches apart.

Layla could only nod her head as she felt Haissam's lips press gently against hers, sending her world completely out of control.

()….()

The finishing touches were difficult to apply on a boat sailing on the open sea, but they were done. As Will surveyed his finished product, he couldn't help but see a resemblance to Djaq in his tiny figurine.

"Wow, tha' is some carvin' ye got there, Will." Will looked up at Eric and offered a small smile in thanks. No' bein' funny, but ye got some real talen'."

Nodding, Will stood up, handed the toy to Eric and made his way below deck, "Don't wake me until land is spotted."

Eric gave him a confused look, "Why?"

"I don't want to be bothered by the need to sleep when I'm searching for Djaq."

()….()

**Translations:**  
**Kamman**-- as well, also, too  
**Baba**-- Father, Daddy

**AN**: Finals are done! I did well! Woo! Hope you guys liked this. It's really short, but the next chapter's going to be pretty exciting. Well, as well as the next few chapters, so I thought I'd keep this one a bit short because I didn't want any cliffhangers just yet. Feel free to point out any typoes, grammar mistakes, anything of the sort, or if you just have something to say in general. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the bank! Toodle-oo!


	8. People Think I'm Crazy

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 7: People Think I'm Crazy

()….()

"'Ey, wake up. It's time," Will heard in the dark recesses of his mind. "Will, wake up!" he heard, almost shouting in his ear.

"Yeah," his lips released the hoarse sound as he struggled to a sitting position.

"Ye slept like a baby, ye did," Eric told him, his clear voice being the only distinction from his comatose to conscious state. Will couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. The room was so dark save for the eerie glow of the moon hinting at its presence through the opening to the deck. "Come; let's go see our first glimpse of Palestine."

With that, Will stood up and clumsily made his way toward the steep stairs leading to the deck. His eyes took in the vast sky sprinkled with stars that illuminated the sea accompanied by a pale, full moon glowing a majestic blue. Will could only stare in awe at its marvelous beauty as if in a trance.

"'Ere she is," he heard Eric comment beside him, breaking him from the moon's spell. Will turned to look in the direction Eric's gaze was trained on only to see a large dark mass with the occasional glow of a fire lit lamp blinking lazily at the ship. "Palestine."

Their eyes continuing to take in the approaching land, they saw as the first glow of day break began outlining the port city's buildings, giving them an ominous shadow.

"That is Palestine." Will turned around to see Captain Daniel standing behind them. He hadn't even heard him approaching and there he was standing directly behind him, starting conversation. "From what people have told me, you can be in the desert one moment and the next you would be in a fertile area that grows trees and exotic plants. Quite interesting if you ask me."

"Djaq told me that while the ground remained dry, you could see trees. That trees were not uncommon. Just that England had more of them," Will replied, taking note of the trees and shrubs that sparsely decorated the streets and courtyards as the light grew stronger and they drew closer to port.

"This city belongs to the English, which is why we are able to dock here. Will, you will need to travel south about twenty or so miles. The palace should be one of the larger structures in the city, I believe. I'm sure you could figure it out, you're a bright boy."

"Thank you, Captain, you've been a great help."

"'Ey! Wha' 'bout me!" Eric indignantly cried.

"Shh! You've been a great help, too," Will quietly told him, a smile playing on his lips.

The three men stood in a comfortable silence as they waited for the ship to drop anchor close enough to land. "You get on the first boat, Will, good luck to you and return safely to England."

"Thank you, I will always remember the kindness you and Eric showed me," Will told him, giving them both looks of gratitude before boarding the first boat, with the first group of soldiers, to land.

Once his feet were planted firmly on the soil of a land he had only imagined in his dreams and from what Djaq had described to him in her stories of home, he began his long journey to find a girl he could never imagine living without.

()….()

Those words brought her so much happiness…

Yet were the ultimate cause for her pain.

Safiya's hand gripped her treasure and brought it to her lips, pressing them against the words she valued so much. How could she have not noticed? Why did she hesitate in telling Will of her feelings?

Because she thought she was imagining things.

She thought that the spark she felt between their hands when they would accidentally brush was all her imagination. That Will felt nothing at all. At least his stoic face told her so. She thought her heart was the only one that would flutter when their eyes met. That when he was looking in her direction, he was merely thinking, but never of her.

She never hoped for that.

But now, she knew of his love but he would never know of hers.

"Will."

"Princess Safiya?" was followed by a soft rapping at the door, causing Safiya to jolt in surprise.

She remained where she was, however, and listened as the door slowly opened behind her and the sound of gentle footsteps timidly approached her bed. "Yes, Layla. Shoo bedik?"

"Bedi tehki ma'ik."

"About what?"

"You need to get out of bed. Prince Am'an is getting aggravated with your absences."

"I do not want to see that tyrant."

"But you must."

Safiya pushed herself up onto her elbows and turned to face Layla, giving her a look. "Tell Prince Am'an that I am unwell, he should understand."

"He does not believe me, Safiya; he constantly tells me that in his country people never let a cold become an obstacle. You must see him." But Safiya was not listening. She looked past the desperation in Layla's eyes to the underlying shine that seemed to take a permanent stay there.

"What has happened to you? You seem much happier than you were yesterday, or any other day before now."

"Happier?" Layla echoed, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "I am not happy right now. You are mourning and won't get out of bed while Prince Am'an grows impatient and upset. He—"

"If I see him, I will not be to blame for my actions," Safiya shot back, "Tell me. Has something good happened to you recently?"

Layla gave a sigh as Safiya sat up fully and focused her eyes on the woman before her.

"Haissam loves me."

"He loves you? That's it? _I_ knew that."

"I mean, he told me he loves me."

"He did? When? How? What did he say?"

"You haven't looked this eager since before your fight with Am'an. I will tell you," she said, an amused tone hinted in her voice, before launching into her story of what happened in the corridor outside Safiya's father's lab yesterday.

Safiya listened with avid curiosity as Layla relayed the words that Haissam had spoken to her. Safiya watched as the shine that hid from the world to see only moments before came to the front and portrayed the happiness that Layla could never let go.

"Haissam knows how to express himself," Safiya concluded when Layla had finished. "Has he asked you to marry him?"

"Not yet, but I do not think it will be too long from now. I hope."

"Do not worry; Haissam does not play with emotions. Would he be this eccentric if he did?" Safiya said, her lips twitching upwards into a smile she could not feel.

"No, he wouldn't. Thank you, Safiya."

Layla and Safiya sat in comfortable silence as she turned over her trinket in her hands, staring at it in deep thought.

Will loved her.

That thought alone caused her heart to swell and a tiny smile to threaten her lips.

"Well, Princess, I will see you at breakfast. I shall leave you to your thoughts." And with that, Layla turned and left, leaving Safiya to her thoughts.

She knew that she would never see Will again. Yet a sense of resignation began forming within her. He can still be with her, she reasoned. If only in her heart. "I will think of him when I grow weary of playing this game. When I find myself wanting to end Am'an's miserable existence or even mine; I will think of Will, _my_ Will Scarlet of Locksley, and be strong again."

Her hand tightened around the toy just as her resolve strengthened, just before she got up to dress for breakfast.

()….()

"At last, a bride worthy of my greatness. I thank you, Jamal, for agreeing to my terms."

"It is you who I should thank for aiding us in this Holy War. Have you already sent a regiment to Prince Malik's camp?"

Prince Am'an turned from the window overlooking the courtyard to face the advisor sitting at his desk. The last time he'd entered this room was two months ago to negotiate the terms for the agreement taking place within three days. An agreement that would grant him power over a large area of land and people. Power over a beautiful Palestinian princess he had coveted since he'd seen her six years ago.

"Of course, anything for my spirited bride," a thought struck him just as the words left his mouth, "Speaking of my bride, what has gotten into her? She seems more irritable than usual."

"She has the weight of a whole country on her shoulders and she never wanted it."

"She was much stronger the first time I'd seen her all those years ago. If I remember correctly, she was the stronger, more intelligent of the twins."

"She was."

"What do you think happened?" Am'an asked Jamal, moving to stand before his desk and staring down his nose at the lesser man in front of him. He watched as the advisor looked down at his papers and picked up his quill.

"I do not know."

"I think you do know, Jamal, and you do not wish to tell me," he let loose a bark of laughter, "Well, my dear advisor, let me tell you something," Am'an leaned over the desk, putting his hands down flat on the surface so he could comfortably stretch across the desk and whisper in Jamal's ear, "If she does not comply to the idea of marrying me then this agreement will _not_ take place."

Am'an straightened and looked on in satisfaction as Jamal's knuckles whitened, a telltale sign of his hand clenching, as it began to shake, knowing that the weak man before him had been greatly affected by his threat.

()….()

He did not know where he was, but something told him that this was Jerusalem for as he walked through the streets, his dark cloak covering his pale skin; he noticed a brilliantly large building with beautiful designs decorating its exteriors. As he walked in the direction of the palace-like structure, he began noticing other things as well, such as the massive wall surrounding it, with guards at the main gate.

"It's a castle," he confirmed, though he noticed there was not a grey stone to be seen on the walls, just a smooth sand-colored surface.

Keeping his distance, he traveled around the streets around the castle wall trying to find a place to sneak in. Eventually, he came upon a door on one side of the castle wall. He looked around and noticed that no guards were posted anywhere near the entrance.

Cautiously, he made his way to the door and tried the knob. His eyebrows knit together at the openness of the castle, to keep what appeared to be a servant's door unlocked. Pushing open the door, he was careful to slip quietly in and take in his surroundings.

His eyes widened as he took in the elaborate garden with all of its colors. The first time he'd seen so many since he'd arrived. Flowers he'd never seen before lined the paths, and bushes sprinkled corners and surrounded trees that were sparsely planted in little clearings. It seemed neatly kept and Will couldn't help but to admire it.

He carefully began making his way toward the castle, crouching low when he heard something and taking every opportunity to conceal himself in every cluster of trees he came upon.

He was so close to a door he could already feel the pride of victory growing within him.

"Trespassing is a crime, Englishman," he heard, in heavily accented English, right behind him.

Just before a large hand clapped firmly on his shoulder.

()...()

**Translations:**

**Shoo bedik?** -- What do you want?  
**Bedi tehki ma'ik**. -- I want to speak with you.

**Author's Note:** Sorry, I'd promised more updates over the break, and I've failed you. However, I did get more progress on the story overall. As of right now, I have the basic outline of the rest of the story. Not much longer, really. After this one, I'll have to write only three more chapters and that will be the end of the story. Hopefully you've enjoyed it so far. Constructive criticism is much appreciated. I mean, come on, my story's not perfect.


	9. Just for Loving You

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 8: Just for Loving You

()….()

She shouldn't have read the words again. She shouldn't have looked at them for strength for they only brought her an emotion she viewed as a great weakness. Especially now. Grief consumed her. She hated that she had to wait to look at those words. Why didn't she look at them when she was traveling to Palestine? She would have recovered soon after her arrival, right?

No, she could never recover. This was something she had to live with for the rest of her life. Something that would cause her to become sick every time she thought of the deal that she forced herself to comply with. Her body curled into a fetal position, feeling the nausea coming on. She skipped breakfast. She couldn't remember the last meal she'd eaten and she knew that it was beginning to worry her friends and Jamal.

Her hands, wrapped around the wooden doll, pressed against her heart as her eyes let loose another wave of tears that stained her cheeks. "I love Will! Not that… Prince," she sobbed, a weight beginning to settle on her already heavy heart. She couldn't believe that she'd agreed to such an engagement instead of trying to find a way out of it. Well, it was too late now. Sniffling, she stood up and walked about the room, trying to clear her head.

She was too emotional to see Am'an and knew that something bad would happen if she did.

Everything about Am'an repulsed her. His haughty airs and crooked nose. She hated the way every time his eyes would graze over her, she would feel a chill shoot up her spine and suddenly she could not hold her stomach together to keep her from losing her meals. Meals that she'd stopped eating to avoid losing them in the first place. The very thought that he would be able to unveil her and let his cold black eyes see her face, that he would do all she had dreamed of Will doing with her and more, that he would have power over her people was enough to make her sick right now. Sick with dread.

Quiet knocking echoed from the door, jolting her out of her reverie.

"Princess?" she heard the sturdy voice of Samir followed by another set of knocks. It was a silent comfort despite the known purpose behind the knock.

"Yes?" she answered after finding her voice.

"Prince Am'an is requesting an audience with you," he told her. She could hear the strain in his voice and guilt immediately consumed her as she suddenly thought of all Samir must have been through, being the strong one. The pillar that everyone found strength in as they all leaned on him. They all knew he would never let them fall.

"Samir, I am so sorry. I have not been a friend to you."

"Princess Safiya, there is no reason for you to feel sorry," she heard him sigh from the other side of the door as she leaned her back against it.

"Why not? I have not considered your feelings in all of this, my dear friend. How could I have let myself turn a blind eye to you? And you, the strongest of them all. Of Haissam and Layla and me. To never considered how all of this might be affecting you."

"Princess, I will speak plainly. The only connection all of this has to me is where you are concerned. I do not wish to see you marry a man you do not love. I do not wish to see you give your country to a tyrant. So," he paused, and she could tell he was trying to gather the right words. He never was a great speaker, "I must be strong. If only for you. The girl whose father I watched die, whose brother was my first friend, of whom I view as a sister of my own. Now, Princess, Am'an's temper will only rise if you refuse to see him today as well."

"He causes everyone's unhappiness, yet he still demands attention. Tell him that if I were to see him, my stomach would not be able to hold the breakfast I ate this morning," she told him, her voice low with disgust she already began to feel at the mere thought of having to see the outrageous man that decided he wanted her for a wife.

"He says that if he does not see you by the time the sun casts no shadow, he will call off his side of the agreement."

"If he continues to make such threats, the wedding will not happen."

She heard a tired sigh escape his lips and she knew that Samir did not want to say anything more, but he had to. "You know that we cannot afford to lose his aid in this war," he paused, as if waiting for her to say something in response. She had none. "And, Princess, he is abusing his privileges as an honored guest. He speaks bitingly to Jamal and sometimes pushes him around—"

"And Jamal cannot do anything because he is not a king." Safiya reached up and covered her nose and mouth with her veil, anger now welling up inside of her. "No one, not even my future husband, mistreats those serving under my name." With one swift motion, the door flew open and Safiya stepped out to a surprised Samir. "Come, I must speak with Am'an," she told him as she started down the hallway at the pace that even a tall, lanky Samir had trouble keeping up with.

()….()

Will couldn't believe he'd been caught.

Here, in Palestine, of all places! But he needed to escape. He had to find Djaq. A shock of desperation coursed through him. He had to be with her, he had to see if she was there. He just couldn't bear the thought of living without her for another moment.

In seconds, without any warning, the guard who had caught Will whirled him around to face the person who decided his fate. "Why are you here, Will?" he heard the man say in a thick Saracen accent, but in English nonetheless.

Will froze. He knew his name? Will's eyes, which were previously trained on his captor's dark, but soft looking shoes, trailed cautiously up the guard's body, eventually landing on his face. It was the burly man from the forest that day.

"You speak English?" Will asked, suddenly feeling shock as he watched the guard with unusual, caramel eyes nod.

"Yes, and I am Haissam. I ask again, what are you doing here, Will?" Will couldn't help but to draw back slightly, afraid of what this man could do to him with those massive arms.

"How do you know my name?" Will countered, allowing his stupidity to take over him as he straightened himself up and stared into Haissam's eyes. He couldn't believe he was acting so rudely toward a man that held Will's life in his hands.

"Our princess spoke your name once. As we left England," Will couldn't help the scowl that threatened his lips as he watched an arrogant look flicker through the Saracen man's gaze and a twitch of a smirk play at the corner of his lips.

"I came to find Djaq."

"You mean Princess Safiya?"

This caught Will off guard. He didn't realize that she was known as someone completely different here. She was Princess Safiya of Palestine. Not the Djaq that he knew and loved in the forest. Would she be completely different in personality as well?

"Yes. She is the one I need to find."

Will watched in annoyance as that smile he was already growing tired of spread across Haissam's face. "You don't know them?"

Will blinked in confusion. "Know what?" he asked, fear of the worst already pumping through his veins.

"Do not worry, it is still fixable."

Desperation itched its way into Will's mind. "What? What do I not know that can be fixed?" He was almost compelled to grab the burly man's shoulders, but decided against it.

"She's to be married. The day after tomorrow, actually, but—"

"What? To who?" Will shouted, panic rising within him. "It's you, isn't it?"

"Be quiet, it is not me, I can assure you," Haissam said with wide eyes. Will watched his face fall as he seemed to prepare himself to reveal something he himself didn't like to think about. "It is a Persian Prince, who is a tyrant and will not treat her as she should be treated."

"So it's not you?"

"No." Will sighed, releasing the tension that was slowly building inside of him. But he still had an obstacle. From what Haissam sounded like when telling Will of the man that Djaq was to marry, this marriage held no signs of love at all.

But before that train of thought could progress, another one popped into his mind, taking its stand at the forward-most spot in his thoughts and standing firm, never wavering. "How did you know I was here? The door I entered was left unguarded."

"Aah, but it wasn't," Haissam told Will, a delighted smile spreading across his face as he launched into his explanation of the palace's security. "You see, the servants' entrances are just as guarded as the main gates, they are only hidden. It is a tactic used to allow the trespasser to let his guard down so that he can be caught much easier. I just happened to be discussing an important matter concerning the wedding with the guard standing at the entrance you used to 'sneak' into our palace. Now, about your request to see our Princess…"

"Haissam!" Will's eyes flicked to the approaching figure dressed head-to-toe in black robes, the only visible part of the person's body were the large, feminine brown eyes. Will watched as a certain tenderness spread across Haissam's features, especially his darkening caramel eyes, as he turned around to greet the approaching woman. As she came to a halt beside Haissam, standing particularly close but not touching, Will noticed the curious expression with which she regarded him. It was as if she'd never seen pale skin before.

When she spoke it was softness that greeted his ears in a language he knew nothing of and couldn't understand. He could only stare at them as they spoke, in hushed tones, the woman's gaze trailed up to Haissam's and wouldn't leave them as they conversed, leaving Will feeling a little embarrassed. As if he was interrupting something and shouldn't be there.

Although the conversation lasted only a few minutes, he allowed his mind to wander as he stood there awkwardly, waiting for them to finish. His attention was drawn back to them when he heard his name mentioned. There was a lull as the woman's eyes slowly turned back to him, filled with awe. It made Will slightly uncomfortable, to be under such scrutiny, and he found himself shifting slowly from one foot to the other.

"Layla recognizes your eyes, and that she cannot believe that you came all the way here for Safiya," Haissam said with a secret smile on his face.

Will could only smile nervously back, still unnerved from the intensity of her gaze. He let out a breath he didn't know he held as Layla's eyes shot back to Haissam, telling him something that sounded urgent by the tone of her voice, the alarmed look in her eyes and by the way Haissam's eyes widened. Somewhere in between all of the words he heard "Safiya" which caused Will to suddenly pay better attention, as if he could actually understand what she was saying.

"We must hurry to Safiya; she is meeting with Prince Am'an, he future husband. This will surely end badly if what Layla says is true about Safiya's rising temper, especially now that Am'an is just as angry. But you cannot calmly walk in; it will only anger Am'an more. I must present you as a trespasser. A criminal. Do you understand?"

Determination pulsed through his veins just as quickly as his heart was beating from the nervous shock of adrenaline. Finally, he would see Safiya's face, "I hope you don't mind a fighter for a captive, then."

Haissam only laughed.

()….()

The air between Samir and Safiya as they walked to the Grand Throne Room, could have registered as awkward with a pinch of tension to anyone else. But to Samir and Safiya, it was comfortable. Neither felt as if they had anything to say, and Safiya knew this. She glanced at her old friend, still feeling remnants of her guilt wash over her. But she knew that Samir was okay, because his eyes reflected the calm acceptance that he felt. He knew that she felt guilty for not noticing what he really went through beneath his amused looks. She knew that he'd already forgiven her, but she still felt guilty. Even if the emotion wasn't very strong, it was still there.

They stopped in front of the large doors of the Grand Throne Room.

"Are you ready, Safiya?" Samir asked, his voice only loud enough for just her ears. She could only nod, her anger rising at the prospect of wasting another minute with Prince Am'an.

Silently, Samir stepped in front of her, opened the door and announced Safiya to a standing Am'an.

Safiya stepped inside and was blasted with the thick tension in the air, she glanced toward the window to see Jamal staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. "Jamal and Samir, stand outside the door until I call for you."

Samir turned to her, shock evident in his eyes, "Princess, what about—"

"He will be my husband in two days, I believe that it would be acceptable if we were alone for a short while."

Samir gave her a slight warning glance before turning and following a shaking Jamal out of the room. With practiced poise, she walked to her throne and slowly sat down, fixing Am'an with a cold glare.

He glared right back, from his throne a little further to the right than usual. Safiya explained to him that if there were any other important guests like Malik, they would mistake his throne for a designated visitor's throne.

"Are you feeling better, Princess?" he asked, his cold, black eyes trained on hers, holding a sarcastic glint.

"Much better, shookran, Prince Am'an."

Silence reigned again and Safiya thought that she could suffocate in the tense air filling the room.

"How are the preparations for the ceremony?" his voice held something in it that caused dread to shoot up her spine.

"They are going well." She did not feel the need to elaborate or to ask him any questions. They would have been just as forced as his. And she didn't want to go through any unnecessary efforts for a man like him.

"Why are you not happy for the ceremony that will soon bind us together as one being? One power."

Prince Am'an's words, spoken softly with a hint of hurt, almost caused Safiya to soften the grudge she held against him. She even tried to will herself to thaw some of the ice in her eyes and tone, trying to regard him in a kinder manner than the man who stole her away from a life she loved. "I am…" she had to really force the next words from her lips, "happy, Am—"

"I see no happiness!"

Almost. Any hint of warm feelings that might have begun to form drained out of her faster than Robin's arrow could hit its nearest target, leaving the glacier forming around her heart to quickly strengthen with new vigor. Her hatred found a firmer foundation, derived from his angered outburst.

Her hands, clenched into tight fists, moved to her lap as they began to shake from the intensity of restraint she had to maintain as to not kill the man before her. "Oh?" she said, her voice keeping an eerie calm, as her eyebrows lifted in an inquisitive quirk. Her eyes betrayed everything, however. All the rage, hatred, pain that she'd kept inside her for the satisfaction of this man. "Happy? You want me to be happy?" her voice held a certain tightness that indicated her barely restrained anger. "How could I _possibly_ be happy when I am being forced to marry a tyrant?" her voice had risen considerably until she could hear an overwhelming echo bounce the word 'tyrant' around the room.

She didn't regret her words even as shock registered on Am'an's face, even as the shock slowly transformed into a glare just as intense as her own. "Is that what you think of me?" he stated, his voice reaching a strained low as he stood up to meet her challenge, "As a tyrant?" Safiya flinched at the volume and harshness of the word, "My wife should never know such words."

"Your wife would only know such words for as long as she lives because she is married to one!"

"If we were married, this never would happen. You would know your place!"

"But we are not. So you have no power over me or my people until the event takes place."

"I am a guest in your country, you should treat me with great respect. Especially since I agreed to aid you in your Holy War."

"In this country, Am'an, respect is _earned_ no matter who you are. Bullying my most trusted advisor does _not_ earn respect. Refusing to offer aid for the protection of your country as well as my own does not earn respect. Forcing your will on others and making threats does. Not. Earn. Respect. If you want respect you will treat _my_ people with respect. You will treat _me_ with respect." Such satisfaction with oneself could not be felt anywhere else in the known world than in Safiya at that moment. She'd felt a weight lift from her shoulders, but she knew it wasn't over. Not yet. She could tell by the look on his face that she'd only succeeded in angering him even more.

"And you do not love me?" he asked, his voice suddenly taking on a fiercely delicate tone that alerted Safiya to impending danger.

But she didn't care anymore.

"When has _love_ ever been a part of any arranged marriage, much less this one?" she shot back, feeling brave yet slightly sick at the same time.

She could see the fire growing in his eyes as her words slowly seeped into his dense brain. "I will show you," he said, advancing toward her in a threatening stance, his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes narrowed to tiny slits, "how _love_ is a part of arranged marriages, my Princess." Upon his last words, he reached her and grabbed her roughly by the arms and pulled her to him. His hands squeezed her upper arms as she put her hands up to push against him with all of her strength.

"Get your hands off of me!"

"La', Princess, you don't understand how love works in these kinds of marriages, I must teach my future bride."

Just as she was thinking of how much she wished Will were there, the doors burst open, causing Am'an to jump away from her, making it seem as if he were idly chatting with her instead of what he would have done if given the chance.

Safiya turned to see who her savior was and silently thanked Haissam as he dragged in a man struggling against Haissam's grip on him with what seemed to be all of his strength. She couldn't help but wonder at the stupidity of the captive's tactics. Haissam was obviously much stronger.

Eventually they came to a halt directly before Safiya and she watched in amusement as Haissam forced the man down to his knees. She couldn't help but note the paleness of the man's skin and she knew that he was an Englishman, for he had no olive tone at all integrated into his skin color. His dark head hung low in defeat and she wondered what a scrawny-looking man like him was doing here in Palestine.

"This Englishman was caught trying to enter the palace through the servants' entrance," Haissam said as he grabbed the hair at the top of the man's head and pulled back, allowing Safiya to see the familiar green eyes that she'd only been able to see in her dreams since she'd arrived here. His green eyes searched hers, looking for the same familiarity that she'd seen in his, but she had to block that out. She couldn't gasp in surprise, she couldn't whisper his name, she couldn't shed a happy tear, no, she had to conceal all of the emotions raging inside her behind a collected, cold pair of eyes. She couldn't even allow recognition to register in his hopeful face. "What do you wish me to do with him?"

"Dungeons," Safiya choked out, cursing her throat for constricting when she couldn't afford it, "For now," she said, her voice sounding much stronger than it did only seconds before, "take him to the dungeons."

**Translations**:  
**La'**-- No  
**Shookran**-- Thank you

**Author's Note**: Hopefully you enjoyed it. Sorry that it took so long to get out, but I found the last scene incredibly difficult to write for some reason. It probably still is inadequate, but... maybe I got the right mood? Constructive criticism is much appreciated.


	10. Here is My Heart

**The Legend of a Saracen Princess**

**Chapter 9: Here is My Heart…**

Was it really necessary to punch him in the face?

This thought crossed Will's mind every once in a while as he prodded the bruise he knew was developing around his left eye.

But Haissam deemed it necessary. "For authenticity," Will muttered to himself. Nothing had prepared him, though, for the suffocating air that met the two actors as they barged onto their stage, obviously interrupting something.

And the woman that Haissam had addressed. Will couldn't forget her eyes. There was something about her eyes. So cold, yet so expressive. Will could tell she had everyone else fooled with her formal airs.

That man she stood next to. So stiff, as if they hated being in each other's proximity. And Will didn't have to doubt that he'd interrupted something unpleasant. Their distance seemed forced, their stances uncomfortable. It seemed as if they were interrupted from something intimate, at least that's what their stances gave off, but by the air in the room, it felt as if the intimacy was nothing like what Will had witnessed between Haissam and Layla.

But that woman's eyes. "There was something about them," Will muttered to himself. Something so familiar and comforting. They were most attractive eyes he'd ever seen. He wanted to see her again so he could look at her eyes more.

A pang of guilt flashed through Will as soon as he realized that he'd had that thought. Djaq's eyes were just as beautiful, Will knew that, but he couldn't help but be drawn to this other woman's. Something about the way she had looked at him. It felt as if he were looking at Djaq, his beloved Djaq. The way the world around him seemed to fade away when their eyes met. It happened on the rare occasions that his and Djaq's eyes would meet.

Really meet. Not a glance of disbelief at something Much or Allan had said. But at times when Will would catch himself staring at her, she would look up and meet his eyes and suddenly Will would find himself feeling vulnerable, but he wouldn't be able to look away. And slowly, the world around him would fall from his attention and all he could see were her eyes. Those chocolate drops embedded into that lovely face. And the urge to touch her face would arise, and he'd resist. Each time. Each time he fell in love he'd resist the temptation of displaying any affection he felt toward her. He'd watch as her eyes changed from the ever-familiar silently observing, her eyebrows furrowing as she continued to stare at him curiously. "What?" she'd eventually ask, breaking the silence.

"Nothing," he murmured out loud, startling himself, "Just thinking."

Will leaned back against the wall, suddenly exhausted.

Perhaps he'd failed? But he'd seen Haissam; Haissam was in the forest that day. But no one had come in a long time and Will was beginning to think that he'd been fooled. Should he try to find a way to escape?

Just as a plan began formulating in his mind, he heard footsteps slowly fade into his range of hearing, the sound bouncing off of the walls in an orderly fashion, alerting him that someone was coming.

"Englishman," came the gruff voice of Haissam from the source of the footsteps, "You have a visitor."

Will couldn't tell what the person looked like until she had stepped into the dim torchlight illuminating only the space around his cell.

It was the woman from the throne room.

She stopped directly in front of the bars of his cell. "Come here," she said, her cold eyes focused on him as he moved forward, crawling on his knees. She knelt down in front of him, making their eyes level. "Why did you try to sneak into my palace?"

"I'm looking for Djaq," Will replied, feeling strange as he said this. But he felt that he'd come too far to dance around the subject now.

"Djaq is dead, he's been dead for years," her voice was beginning to sound oddly familiar.

"Not that Djaq," Will said impatiently. Did Haissam not tell her? "Safiya-Djaq. The Princess." Will watched as something cracked in the woman's eyes. And another flash of familiarity peaked out at him from within. Could it be?

"How would you know if you saw her? All of our women are dressed the same," her voice sounded as if it had quavered as she spoke, alerting Will to the possibility that his continuously growing assumption might be true.

"I would know," he said, feeling a sudden surge of emotions fill his words, "Maybe not right away, but I'd know. Eventually."

"Why?" she whispered, her eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowing, in what Will knew to be a tell tale sign of restraint on her tears. He knew her nose was scrunched up and that she was biting only the lower right corner of her lips. Even though he couldn't see them.

"Because when you love someone, you notice things that only they would do. Because that person becomes your world and you can't live without your world." His hands reached up and gripped the bars on either side of his face. "Where's Djaq?"

"She's here," she said, her voice shaking. Will watched as she brought her hand up to pull down the part of the veil covering her face. Her incredibly expressive eyes had already been visible to him, but upon seeing her distinct nose and slightly parted lips, twitching into a small smile, Will let loose a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He was right.

"We missed you back at the camp," Will started to explain, trying to cover up what he'd just said, feeling fear of rejection rise in the pit of his stomach, "so they sent me to get you. Or to at least to see how you were doing…" he trailed off as Djaq simply smiled at him with a tender look in her eyes.

" 'Here is my heart, it belongs to you,' " she whispered to him.

"You read the words, then?" Will asked, feeling a touch of nervousness continue to tickle at his stomach and slowly spread throughout his body.

She nodded, her smile growing, "My heart belongs to you, too." Will couldn't believe his ears, did she really return his feelings? "And you had confessed just now, too. So don't use the camp as an excuse."

"Am I dreaming?" Will laughed.

"No. I love you, Will Scarlett," she sighed, leaning closer to him, "more than I can ever say."

His hands itched to touch her face, but he held back, still scared that he might be dreaming and he might wake up to find himself in the forest. Instead he took in her eyes, which filled his vision since their faces were fairly close together, and the emotions that lit them up. Emotion he was sure he displayed in his own eyes.

She was beautiful, and something about the way she looked at him only heightened that right now. And he wanted to do _something_.

But what should he do? She now knew of his feelings, but what could he do now? Where did he start?

Cautiously, he let go of the iron bar on his left and, while never taking his eyes off of hers, brought a shaky hand up to tenderly press his fingertips against her cheek lightly before allowing them to slide up underneath her headdress, and into her hairline, his palm cupping her cheek in the process. With him watching her intently the whole time, he got to watch as her eyes slowly fell shut as he proceeded.

"Habibi," she breathed, a smile spreading across her lips as she said it.

"Hm?" Will hummed, letting himself get lost in the moment.

"Habibi. It means 'my love'," she said with a slight laugh in her voice.

"My love," he echoed, allowing his forehead to rest against hers. "You are _my_ love. No one else's." He leaned in to kiss her but was met with air. His tingling hand emptied as she drew back and he opened his eyes to see a pensive look on her face. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you only reminded me of my engagement to that prince."

"You can just leave him, can't you?"

"Of course not! Haissam will only be ordered to come after me again. What I _can_ do is just break it and announce that I'm marrying you instead. But if I did that, Am'an would withdraw any support for our side. He might even declare his own separate war. We cannot spare the soldiers for that," she drifted off, allowing herself to think more on the subject, and Will couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were flashing through her mind at that moment as he watched her face flicker as she went through idea after idea.

"Haissam," she said finally, after a long pause.

"Yes, Princess," he replied, stepping forward, somewhat out of the shadows.

"How do you feel about becoming king?"

"What? Safiya, I cannot marry you. You know that."

"No! Haissam, listen. What do you think about me giving the throne to you?"

"I cannot! It is your birthright."

"But you can. You know that you're far better at this than I can ever be. It interests you. And while you know that I care for my people, you will give them better service. I know that you will make a better king than I will queen. And Layla will be by your side, as your queen. Haissam, please, will you do it?"

Haissam pursed his lips, deep in thought, staring long and hard at Djaq. Will knew that this was a tough decision, it wasn't everyday that a royal asked someone else to take their throne. Even if it was for the good of the country.

"You and Layla will do it a greater service than Prince Am'an," Safiya reasoned. Haissam nodded slowly, determination making its way across his features.

"I'll do it."

"Thank you, Haissam! You don't know how much this means to me!" Djaq got up and wrapped her arms around Haissam in a grateful embrace. He returned it, murmuring something in Arabic to her. Something they both laughed at.

"What did he say?" Will couldn't help but ask as the two pulled apart.

"Anyone would make a better king than Am'an," Djaq said, a smile still in her voice as she turned back to him. "Will, I must go now, but I will come for you tomorrow night. I have business to take care of before we leave." She knelt down so her face was level with his again. "Habibi, rest well, we have a long journey tomorrow," she murmured before timidly running her hand through his hair and bringing her lips to hover shyly over his, "Good-night." It seemed as if she couldn't make up her mind whether or not to kiss him and Will waited patiently, shutting his eyes, as her head hesitantly inched closer before she finally pressed a quick peck to his lips and stood up before he could kiss her back.

Instead, Will lingered in the brief moment where their lips had finally met, letting the countless sensations running through him fully take over. "G'night," he finally murmured. But when he opened his eyes, she was already gone, leaving Will to wander back to the moment before. A moment he'd wanted since the day he first discovered how beautiful she was.

**Safiya** knew the gardens as well as she knew the alchemy she and her father had worked on so many months ago. She used to play in them with Haissam and Djaq when she was younger. She remembered that, on the nicer days that they experienced, the three children were usually successful in convincing their tutor to have their lessons outside. She reveled in those days, for that was when she had begun introducing herself to the herbs that she and her father had used in some of their experiments. She could recall days when her father would send her outside to gather herbs for their emptying baskets. Her bare feet would fly over the dirt paths, through the gardens as she raced past the purely decorative part and into the private section that her father reserved for his herbs. Sometimes she would take her sweet time, enjoying the beauty of the palace gardens on a beautiful day. On those days, it would be hours before she would return with the herbs her father requested. But he never seemed to mind.

This time, however, she could neither run nor take her time. She had to carefully maneuver Will and herself to the gate that she knew Am'an couldn't see from his bedroom window. Haissam, Layla and Samir were all with them, appearing as if they were just taking a leisurely midnight stroll through the gardens when they were really keeping watch for any sign of someone that might interfere. But with Haissam walking among them, the guards wouldn't pay any attention.

"Haissam!"

Except one.

Safiya pushed Will into nearby bushes and quickly followed, turning her back to the path and curling up into a small ball. Will followed her example and they kept close to each other as Safiya listened closely, the light footsteps of a newer, younger guard swiftly approaching.

"Haissam!" there was a pause as Safiya assumed that the guard was formally saluting Haissam out of sheer respect of rank. "Oh, Samir." Another pause. "Layla, keef haalik?"

"Mneeha, Afif, shookran," Layla muttered. Safiya held back a snort as she listened to the young boy begin to make small talk with Layla and she only responded in short, generic sentences. The poor boy was didn't sound a day older than sixteen. And he never stood a chance.

"What do you want, Afif?" Haissam grunted, sounding a bit upset that the guard seemed content to have idle conversation with his beloved. Safiya held back a bark of laughter at the obvious crush the boy seemed to display toward Layla.

"I just wanted to report that all is well in the palace."

There was a slight pause.

"Thank you, you are dismissed."

Safiya listened as his footsteps faded away in the direction of the entrance to the boy's post inside the palace. It wasn't until she couldn't hear him anymore that she unfolded herself and left the safety of the bushes.

"That boy is too eager," Haissam muttered as he took Layla by the elbow and led her down the path in a huff. Will and Safiya followed, leaving Samir to cover the end, protecting them from the alert of palace guards.

They reached the tiny gate with no more trouble. Safiya stood staring at it, feeling relief wash over her at the prospect of being with Will, and not Am'an, for the rest of her life. At the prospect of being just Djaq, and not Princess Safiya.

She jolted back from her daydream of what life in England would be like once they got back when she felt Will's fingertips timidly press into the palm of her hand. She looked up at him and smiled, interlacing their fingers as she took in his concerned look. "Do not worry, Habibi, we're safe."

Turning around, she prepared herself for one of the hardest good-byes she'd ever have to face in her most memories. "Samir, Layla, Haissam. These past weeks would not have been bearable had you not been there. Haissam, thank you for taking my place on my father's throne. You will make an excellent king. Layla, you were an excellent friend when I felt I didn't have one," she said as she hugged the both of them as she spoke, "And you, Samir. Thank you for bearing with our childish ways for so long. I'm glad you are now Chief Guard. Protect my people, and of course, yourself. Shookran."

"Roohi, Safiya, before we can start missing you," Layla said, her eyes reflecting the torchlight with unshed tears welling up inside of them.

Safiya tried to not let the tears she saw affect her as she hugged each and everyone of them one more time, promising each of them a visit when there is peace again.

It was with that last promise that Djaq grabbed Will's hand once again and, after bidding another good-bye, turned and opened the gate and stepped through to her freedom.

**_Translations:  
_****Habibi**-- my love  
**Shookran**-- Thank you  
**Roohi**-- Go (command)  
**Keef halik**-- How are you? (to female)  
**Mneeha**-- Good (as far as I know, it's only to be used in response to the above question)

**_Author's Note_**: This took a while because I just couldn't get the first scene right. I'm pretty satisfied with it now. Hope you enjoyed it!! Constructive criticism is much appreciated. Oh, and P.S.-- No part breaks because won't let me save them on this... whatever-it's-called-I'm-just-so-frustrated.


	11. It Belongs to You

The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 10: It Belongs to You

()...()

"Where is she!?" an enraged prince bellowed as he stormed into the Grand Throne Room the next morning.

Haissam flinched from his spot on the King's throne before glancing at Samir, more out of envy for his position than anything else. A pair of irate eyes were trained on the new King of Palestine with a snarl developing at the Prince of Persia's lips, expecting an explanation for his missing bride.

"What do you want, Am'an?" Haissam asked, assuming his formal airs, as he turned back to face Am'an.

"You have no right to address me so informally! You are a fighter for the army that will soon be under my command!"

"But you are wrong. Shoofi," Haissam reached into his pants pocket, pulling out the decree that announced Safiya's resignation and Haissam's immediate promotion, "I've been given rule over Palestine by Safiya, our late princess." He handed the parchment with Safiya's signature to Am'an, who snatched it out of the new king's hands and quickly scanned the details of the document that now changed the lives of everyone in the room.

"Why has she done this? Where has she gone?" Am'an's hands tightened around the decree, his rage only being kept in check by the satisfying sound of crinkling parchment.

Haissam braced himself. He'd never had to lie so blatantly before. But if it was for the good of Palestine, Haissam was willing to do anything.

"She has eloped to England. With that Englishman. It seems that he has wooed her in order to save his own life and is using her as a shield to get out of our lands."

As Haissam finished, he watched Am'an's eyebrows furrow in thought, his chin dipping down as he took in the new information.

"So you are saying this Englishman has hypnotized my bride? Forced her to leave behind her country to chase some man who does not love her?"

Haissam nodded, pursing his lips in an attempt to keep his face straight. How fickle that made Safiya sound, when everyone else in the palace knew that Safiya would never let simple wooing affect her. She was stronger than that. It was a good thing Am'an had no clue. "That is why we need your assistance in this war; these Englishmen are casting this evil spell and tainting our land with their presence. Will you aid us?"

"Why should I?" Am'an said, finally looking up at Haissam.

"Because they took everything involving your future: land, a wife, and ownership of two kingdoms. A great insult to you alone, Prince Am'an."

"You have insight, fighter," Am'an said, the words hitting a sore spot somewhere deep within him. "Alright, consider me an ally. I will not rest until every Englishman on our soil is dead, mark my words. I will. Have my revenge!" Am'an said, his voice reaching a deep crescendo that echoed throughout the room before he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving it in a deafening silence.

"I think that went well, Haissam, congratulations," Samir said finally, laughter coating his voice.

Haissam turned to him, slightly confused. "Did Am'an really believe that terrible lie?"

"Yes, and you should feel lucky that Safiya was about to marry a stupid prince and not a smart one. Or else convincing him would have taken more than just a little lie."

"You're right, Samir," Haissam said, a victorious grin spreading across his features, filling every light and shadow of his face. "It would have actually required some thought."

()...()

"So that's how it happened, then?"

Djaq nodded, smiling at the little girl before her. Marian's bright blue eyes stared at her in wonder, albeit a little glazed from the fever that caused her to be bedridden. Marian had asked Djaq to watch after her at Locksley Manor while she and Robin attended the inauguration ceremony of the new Sheriff of Nottingham.

"And where is she now? This Saracen Princess."

"In England. With the man she loves."

"But... _where_ in England! I want to meet her! She was in Father's gang during Prince John's rule, right? Did _you_ know her?"

Djaq laughed, "You should be sleeping, your fever won't go down if you don't. And you know how your mother gets when you don't recover as soon as you should."

"Djaq?" she whirled around in her seat by the child's bed to face Will, who peaked inside the bedroom from around the door frame.

"Yes, Will?"

"They've returned."

"Who is she?" the girl insisted.

"Are you telling that story again?"

"Anna asked to hear it. She wouldn't sleep until I did."

"But I want to know where the Saracen Princess is!" Anna leaned against the head board of her bed, her arms crossed in a classic pout.

"She learned that from Robin," Will laughed.

"Who was she?"

"Will you sleep if I tell you?" Djaq asked, giving in. Anna nodded, her curious blue eyes widening as she leaned forward in anticipation.

"Me." Djaq felt two strong hands rest on her shoulders as she tucked the sick daughter of Robin and Marian Hood in her bed at Locksley Manor.

"You!?" she asked, staring up at her in wonder, too shocked to struggle against the woman's attentive actions before her.

"Do you see another Saracen woman married to an Englishman?"

"No, but--"

"Sleep, Anna, I must go. Don't forget to take the herb mixture I set on the table for you."

"I won't, but--"

"Good-bye, Anna," Djaq said as she closed the door behind her and Will.

"Why does she insist on hearing that story?"

"I don't know, but I like the way it ends."

Will wrapped his arm around her, leaning down to kiss her cheek as the left Locksley Manor.

"Me too."

()...()

**Translations**:  
**Shoofi**-- Look (at this).

**Author's Note**: Hope you enjoyed the story. Sorry it took so long to get the last one out. I have no excuse. Really, I don't. Anyway, thanks so much for reading. Constructive criticism is much appreciated.


End file.
